Trust
by obsessed1
Summary: John and his brother are kidnapped by the Trust and have to escape. H/C Shep whump
1. Chapter 1

**Title - Trust****  
****Author - Obsessed1****  
****Rating - PG****  
****Summary - John and his brother are kidnapped by the Trust and have to escape.****  
****Beta - Thank you to Kristen999 who had to put up with switching my commas and my full stops, for saying, "Why the hell have you done this?" and just generally being a source of inspiration when i was stuck and going, "What now?"****A/N; This story is complete, however i'm going to post it in parts so it gives me time to edit any mistakes i've missed along the way.**

The black van pulled up close to the rear of the warehouse and the door slid open. Five men piled out, while the driver took the opportunity to light up a cigarette. As the prisoner was jostled out of the van, cloth bag over his head, he turned and spoke to the driver's reflection in the side mirrors. "Everything go to plan?"

Smoke drifted out of the window. "As much as it could have. There was another guy with him, tried to give us the jump. I dealt with him."

"Good," he said. "The money will be in your accounts by the morning."

He approached his prisoner. He was dressed casual but smart, arms pulled behind his back, head bobbing as he tried to speak through an obviously gagged mouth.

"Bring him inside." He couldn't help but smile. "Let's make the Colonel more comfortable."

The van drove off, tyres screeching into the night, as they entered the warehouse. It was dark and cool inside, the walls unfinished breeze block and the floors plain concrete. There was nothing remarkable about the place. Nothing at all. That was the point.

The Colonel was dumped into a chair in the middle of the room and he angled the light carefully to get a better view as he removed the sack cloth. It only took a minute for him to realize the grave error and he turned to his men, angry, frustrated, already regretting his decision to hire outside help.

"Well done," he said, with a put upon sigh. "You got the wrong man!"

His men looked confused and one stepped forward to throw him a leather jacket. "But he had this."

He examined the jacket closely. It was black and made of leather. He dug into the pockets and found a sparse wallet with a few dollars, a receipt for a rental car and a credit card with the name; Mr. J Sheppard.

He turned back to the man on the chair, whose eyes were wide with panic and then back to his men. "This isn't John Sheppard. This is _his_ jacket but this is…." he paused and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Was he wearing the jacket?"

Silence.

"Was he wearing the damn jacket?"

"He was holding it," one of the men admitted.

The man on the chair was squirming against his restraints, cheeks red with the exertion. He removed the gag and pulled a wet string of saliva with it.

"Who are you?"

The man before him looked confused and the light in his eye had him blinking repeatedly. He seemed too shocked to speak.

"I asked you a question now kindly answer."

"I'm……" the man paused and licked his lips. "What do you want with John?"

He bunched the jacket in his hands tightly, frustration warring with curiosity. "You know John Sheppard?"

The man swallowed thickly in a way that suggested he was trying not to be sick. This man wasn't military; that much was apparent. In fact, his reactions were distinctly civilian.

"Yeah," the man told them all, squinting to see their faces. "I'm his brother."

--

There were people, strangers, surrounding him, asking if he was okay. John tried to get his foggy mind to co-operate and provide him with an explanation for his current situation. He wasn't off-world. He remembered that much.

He'd requested leave to help his brother settle their father's estate. They'd had a meeting with the executor of the will at his offices downtown.

That's where he was now.

Except, he was lying in the middle of the sidewalk with a lot of people standing over him.

"What's……." he stopped abruptly when a spike of pain forced out any rational thought.

The woman crouched beside him gently squeezed his shoulder, "It's okay. Don't try to move. There's an ambulance on its way."

"An ambulance?" John tried to move and found his efforts hampered by other helpful strangers who wanted to keep him immobile.

He stared up at the black sky and watched as a few droplets of rain zoomed towards him. His head ached in time to his progressively quickening heartbeat.

"What happened?" he tried to lift his hand but the woman took it in hers, thinking he was reaching out for comfort.

"You've been injured."

He tried to move again but the pain in his head caused the edges of his vision to grey.

"Injured?"

Another guy appeared in his field of vision with a cell phone to his ear. "Ambulance is on its way."

Sheppard finally managed to free his hand when the woman, presumably this man's wife, reached up to push the hair out of her eyes, and touched his head. The left side of his face was wet and sticky and before he looked at his fingers, John knew they would be coated with blood.

"You were shot," the woman provided weakly, her face had paled. "The man responsible just drove off with your friend. We've called the police."

Shot? Shot in the head? And he wasn't dead? John thought.

He was still trying to process the news when he focused on what she had just said. His friend? Rodney? Ronon? No, no, he was downtown at the reading of the will. Rodney and Ronon were on Atlantis. That meant that his _brother_ had been abducted and driven away.

"I have to….." he licked his lips again weakly and tried to get up. "I have to get to him……."

"Just concentrate on being still."

They'd come out of the office arguing because his father had apportioned half of his estate to John. He'd told Dave that he didn't want it. His brother had switched from anger, to feelings of betrayal, then utter disbelief at the ungratefulness that John apparently showed for saying he didn't have desire to accept the inheritance.

The simple fact was that John had no need for the money and wanted to prove that he hadn't come back for the funeral to get his share. If anything his brother deserved it. Dave had been keeping his fathers business afloat for years after John had suddenly left to pursue his career in the Air Force.

As harsh words were exchanged, John had started to walk away. He flat out refused to argue again. But then, his brother called him back, waving his jacket in the air.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he'd shouted and sounded exactly like their father in the process.

The next minute a black, unmarked van, was pulling up and five men were clambering out.

He had instinctively reached for a 9.mil that wasn't there and settled for jumping one of the men from behind to pummel him. His brother in the meantime had been accosted and pushed into the van. He was thrown to the ground, kicked in the side a few times, and when he managed to get up, _managed_ to get to the black van's window, he was staring down the business end of a weapon and suddenly hearing the familiar cadence of a berretta firing.

The sounds of sirens had him returning back to the, _lying on the floor having been shot in the head_, portion of his evening.

"I need to make a call," he said, feeling surreally detached from the situation.

Both the man and woman looked down at him as if he were insane.

"You're hurt…." the woman provided dumbly.

"I'm fine," he told her and made another attempt to move.

"He must be in shock," he heard the man say as the ambulance doors were opening.

Two paramedics rushed to help him and his protests were lost in the bustle of activity around him. A few seconds later and the darkness claimed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Trust (2/7)

_**Trust (2/7)**_  
Title: "Trust"  
Author: Obsessed1  
Rating: K+  
Genre: Gen, Action/Adv, H/C  
Characters: Sheppard, Dave Sheppard. Team.  
Spoilers: Takes place in Season 4. After Outcast.  
Summary: Sheppard and his brother are forced to spend some time together when they're kidnapped by the Trust.

Major thanks to **kristen999** for being an amazing beta.

--

Dave Sheppard was out of his depth. One minute he had been arguing with John, the next he was being dragged into a van, gagged, bound and blinded. Now he was in a warehouse being intimidated by a man who claimed to want to know everything about his brother.

_Said_ man was currently standing off to the side, reprimanding his men in a low angry voice. "You had better hope that Colonel Sheppard is uninjured. I need him alive. Find out where he was taken and bring him to me."

The men dispersed, giving a series of "yes sirs," as they went. That left Dave with the ring leader, whoever that was, and two other imposing men.

"Well, I guess I'll have to try to make this work," the man said in an eerily cheerful voice.

He pulled a chair over and sat opposite Dave, almost as if they were about to conduct a business meeting. He was even wearing a crisp black suit.

"Who are you?"

"That doesn't really concern you, but you can call me…." he paused as if searching through a catalogue of approved names. He settled on, "Mike."

Dave nodded dumbly, still trying to think of a way out of this awful mess. He decided every man had a price. "How much is this going to cost me?"

"For me to let you go?"

"Yes."

"I'm not interested in money."

Dave swallowed again; throat burning with bile. "I don't understand why-"

"Now I'm sure if you know your brother as we do, then you would realise his importance."

Dave was at a loss. He couldn't imagine what John had done for these men to go to the trouble of capturing him.

"This must be a mistake."

"Then you don't know about him? What he does?" Mike crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

Dave shook his head. He clenched his fists and tested the restraints.

"I cannot tell, if you're lying to me or not," Mike said, standing stiffly and replacing the chair. "But we'll find out in a while." He gestured to the two goons, "Lock him away. We'll give him an hour."

"No," Dave protested. "Please…this is a mistake."

"Yes," Mike admitted. "But it can easily be rectified if you're willing to talk."

Dave was pushed into a small room and the door was dead bolted from the other side. He paced the room - there were no windows, no breaks in the floor and no hidden panels in the ceiling. He leaned against the wall and sat in the corner, crossing his arms to warm himself up.

"Shit," he scrubbed a hand through his short hair and realized he was shaking.

He had to wonder what these men wanted with John. Even though he was his brother, he had to admit that there was nothing overtly remarkable about him.

John had always just cruised along. He hadn't sought to be the best at anything. He'd given up a prestigious Masters at Stanford, walked away from a business that was practically handed to him, only to join the Air Force. He'd never been particularly confrontational. Even when his father had shouted and screamed and told him how disappointed he was, he had simply walked away and not looked back.

But then, he'd never seen his brother in action and he didn't know what he had been up to for the years between him leaving and coming back for the funeral. They'd simply never been that close.

He knew he'd served in Afghanistan and failed miserably, but he hadn't seen him there. He didn't know what he was capable of and didn't know if he could even imagine John as the brave soldier. They'd never spoken about it. Even when he visited him a month back, after their father's funeral, he had been evasive and kept all talk superficial.

He didn't know how John would react to a situation like this. He didn't _know_ him full stop.

--

John made his tentative journey back to consciousness, amid the hum and beep of assorted medical equipment. And all of it, made his head hurt. John struggled to think linearly and he found his thoughts wandering without any real direction.

Familiar voices drifted over him.

John stared up at the ceiling feeling strange and sluggish. If he could have moved, he would have, but he was overcome by a horrible lethargy that made his limbs feel heavy.

He'd have to make this simple. He was in hospital. It wasn't Atlantis. It wasn't the SGC's infirmary. It was however on Earth.

He reached up to his head and felt the gauze that had been placed there. He could also feel the tangled mass that he called hair so it hadn't required brain surgery. He had the strange niggling feeling that he should be remembering something else. _Something_ crucial. But nothing would connect. His head hurt too much.

"He's awake!"

The shrill voice came closer and the edge of the mattress dipped.

"Sheppard!"

John turned his head slowly, careful not to aggravate his thumping headache, "Rodney?"

Rodney was pushed aside by Ronon's hulking form and he clapped John on the shoulder, "Took you long enough to wake up."

"How long was I out?"

Rodney checked his watch, "About thirteen hours."

"Thirteen?" John attempted to edge up the bed.

"Thirteen very long, _very_ boring hours," Rodney snapped irritably.

"McKay ate your food."

"I did not!" Rodney told him indignantly, "And it's not like you were going to eat it…….it wasn't even very nice and that's saying something. I usually _love_ hospital food."

"You still _ate_ it all."

"_Yes_ Ronon, because I was _hungry_. Hypo-gly-ce-mic," he enunciated. "Now say it with me."

John drifted in and out, head fuzzy with morphine.

"What happened?" he asked finally.

"Well you managed to get yourself shot in the head."

"I _know_ that Rodney. I mean…." and he paused. "Hang on. What are you doing here? In _Virginia_?"

"Long story," Rodney told him, "But when the Doctors found your dog tags they managed to track you back to Peterson Airbase, who contacted the SGC, who contacted us and-"

"And you came all the way out here?"

"The words 'shot in the head' were used. I wasn't just going to continue my game of solitaire. Carter gave us the go ahead to come here and after hours of planes, train and automobiles we arrived to find out you were _perfectly_ fine."

"Your concern is very touching. When can I get out of here?"

"We're transferring you to the SGC for follow up care," Rodney produced a coffee from somewhere. "I can't believe you managed to get shot in the head and survive! It glanced off your skull, one inch over and you'd be dead-"

Ronon elbowed Rodney in the side.

"You'll be fine. The Doctor said you have a concussion. So you should stay immobile and-"

John bolted upright in his bed and suddenly felt sick as memories he had been fighting to retrieve suddenly surfaced.

"What did I just say? Maybe you're brain damaged. It wouldn't be hard to miss."

His brother had been abducted.

The heart monitors began to beep erratically when John pushed himself into a sitting position. He started tearing off leads and disconnecting his I'V' without really thinking. The final lead had his heart monitor flatling and as he was lurching off the bed dizzily, nurses and doctors were racing in with defibrillator trolleys.

"What are you doing?" one of the doctors asked, instantly rushing over to him.

John swallowed against the burning sensation in his throat and looked up, world spinning and twisting, until he closed his eyes tightly to stop it all.

"I have to get out of here," he said to Rodney and Ronon.

"Are you insane!" Rodney asked.

The doctor re-attached the various leads that John had pulled loose and scolded him while as she pulled the covers back up. "You've had a lucky escape. But it doesn't mean you're ready to get up just yet."

John fought feebly with the nurse to his left, but she wasn't relenting and he didn't have the energy to carry on. "Sorry about that," he stilled and tried to look innocent. "I'm fine…."

Rodney stepped forward. "He's fine. We'll make sure he doesn't move again."

The doctor looked between all three men and nodded. "I'll just sign the paperwork and you can get on your way. _Don't_ move."

John remained still, sagging into his pillow in a bid to ground himself.

"What are you talking about?" Rodney asked as soon as she had left.

"We were outside the executors office and a van pulled up…they grabbed my brother, shot me when I tried to get to him and drove off….." he swallowed thickly. "I need to find him."

"What would someone want with your brother?"

"I don't think they wanted him, Rodney."

"Oh yes." There was a beat and then, "Hang on! You have a brother?"

"Don't you listen to anything he says?" Ronon ground out.

"I'm busy a lot of the time. Are you sure you mentioned him to me?"

John gave Ronon an annoyed look before continuing, "I told you I was….._never_ mind. Can we get back on track?"

"You think….." Rodney's eyes went wide. "You don't think? Oh no, _no_, no."

"I do."

"What's going on?" Ronon asked, obviously infuriated at having been kept out of their exclusive loop.

"The Trust," Sheppard told him.

--

It had been a battle to get John to co-operate with them. He wanted to run off and rescue his brother but the stark truth was that he was suffering from a severe concussion and he needed to receive follow up care at the SGC.

He had conceded too easily and that worried Rodney.

John had flat out refused to leave on a gurney and they bargained that he could wear his own clothes, but he would _have_ to leave the hospital in a wheelchair.

He was already discussing strategies to find his brother as they left, but was clearly having difficulty remaining lucid and with them. A couple of times he went silent and Rodney thought he had passed out again.

They got John settled in the ambulance, strapping him onto a gurney while they sat on the bench with a young Lt.

"I can't just sit around and do nothing," John said, hands twisting in his lap restlessly. "I can't do it."

"What you can't do is go running around after getting shot in the head _Sheppard_," Rodney told him. "Are you on drugs?"

John shot him a gloomy look and didn't answer.

"We'll handle it."

"We'll _all_ handle it Ronon."

"You don't have to do everything on your own Sheppard."

The ambulance turned sharply and they all swayed. There was the distant sound of rain hitting the windshield.

"He's the only family I have," John told them in a low voice.

Rodney rolled his eyes, "We _know_ that."

"If anything happens to him….because of me," John reached up and massaged his head. "I'm going with you. Whatever happens. They stick me in an infirmary bed you break me out……okay?"

"We can't just…"

"Rodney," John looked straight at him. "Okay?"

"We'll do it," and Ronon nudged him again. A nudge that told him to humor John, because it was likely he'd pass out as soon as he lay down anyway.

"Fine," and Rodney sighed, "We'll sneak out like teenagers and you won't at _all_ keel over or suffer some _horrendous_ brain injury as the result of getting _shot_ in the _head_."

"It glanced _off_ my head _remember_?"

Rodney continued his tirade. "The three of us will go under the cover of night, stumble across a secret base, find your brother and return with the SGC none the wiser. Do you know how ridiculous that all sounds?"

"The odds aren't exactly stacked in our favor but then they never are."

"But this is different," Rodney argued. "The Trust are _everywhere_. And if they were after you, who's to say they won't try ag-"

His words were cut off because there was the sound of glass breaking and the ambulance was lurching to the side.

"What was-" Rodney's words petered off as the ride became rougher.

"You hit something?" The Lt. asked the medics in the front.

The ambulance was bobbing up and down violently as if a tyre had been punctured.

Rodney leaned forward to ask what the hell the driver was playing at and if he received his driver's license at clown school, he could see that he had been shot in the head and was slumped over the steering wheel.

"He's dead!" Rodney shouted and the other medic rushed to grab the wheel, pushing the deadweight of the driver aside in a bid to control their stop.

Rodney leaned into a brace position just as everyone else did and prepared for the worst.

The ambulance spun and then came to a sudden stop, rocking slightly on its suspension.

For a moment, they all sat in silence; the only sound was the hail pelting the roof.

"Ow!" Rodney moaned as he picked himself up off the floor.

John released his death grip on the bed railing and swung his legs over the edge of the gurney.

Ronon jumped up and pushed him back. "Sit down before you fall down."

"Ronon…."

They shared a dark look and then John did as he was told. Ever since they had returned from the funeral they had shared a closer bond. Rodney wished he could be part of it. Wished he had the same ability to give John one look and for him to obey.

John asked the question they were all thinking, "What the hell happened?"

There were people outside, voices, a door opening and closing and then a shadow at the back of the ambulance.

Their soldier escort had already pulled his 9.mil out and Ronon was gesturing for the medic in the front seat to pass him a sidearm. There were definite advantages to having army medical escorts.

"What's the plan?" John asked as a gun was pressed into his hand.

"Plan?" Rodney looked over to the dead driver and back to the Colonel. "We're trapped!"

John nodded grimly and then turned to the medic, "Drive us out of here."

"Can't do that Sir." The medic was staring out the passenger window at a ghostly silhouette. He shook his head to indicate that wasn't an option.

"We're surrounded," the Lt told him.

John eased himself into a standing position and wobbled on his feet.

"_Colonel Sheppard?"_

The voice outside had them all staring at the rear doors.

"_Colonel Sheppard?"_

Rodney twisted his hands uselessly, wishing he had something to occupy them.

"_We know you're in there. We have your brother. Come with us and no-one else gets hurt."_

John had paled. It wasn't the confrontation, he was used to this, more likely it was the exertion of standing upright. There was the brief flicker of indecision in his eyes before he said. "I'm coming out!"

Rodney went to pull him back but Ronon beat him to it.

"What are you doing?"

"You heard them Rodney," John looked down at the gun in his hand and Rodney wondered what he was thinking.

"You can't go out there!"

"McKay's right."

John schooled his face to one of complete neutrality. "If I go with them, nobody gets hurt."

"They shot the driver! How do you know they won't shoot you on the spot?" Rodney asked, knowing his voice sounded panicky and constricted.

"Because if they wanted to kill me, do you think they'd go to all of this trouble?" John leaned against the door heavily. "I need to go to my brother."

"He could be dead," Ronon said.

"I know."

"This is a stupid plan Colonel! You're going to die!"

"You can track me," he told them, eerily calm, decision made.

"And what if we can't?"

"I know you Rodney. You'll find us," John encouraged. "Once you have me located, come get us."

"You're not up to this," Ronon gripped him by the shoulder. "_I_ know it; _you_ know it."

"I don't need to be. I just need to wait it out until you come and rescue me," John smiled briefly.

"You're not thinking straight," Rodney told him. "It's the drugs. You were on morphine right? You know it messes with your head."

"Sir, this isn't a good idea."

"Lt. Get these men back to the SGC……Rodney, Ronon, I'll see you later."

And then he was opening the door, handing Rodney his weapon and disappearing into the rain.

--

John slammed the door to the ambulance. He could almost _feel_ Ronon's anger and Rodney's disappointment piercing the thick steel.

He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the car headlights and blinked through the rain. The men's faces were covered by black balaclavas and dizziness prevented him from seeing clearly. "No-one else gets hurt," he told them. "That's the deal."

"Get into the van Colonel."

John took a shaky step forward. He felt his knees buckle and he would have collapsed into the mud if it hadn't been for two of the men catching him under his arms. He sagged into their hold, feeling too weak to fight, as they dragged him towards the van.

"If you hurt them, I'll kill you," he rasped, clinging onto consciousness with every last reserve of energy.

--


	3. Chapter 3

--

John had tried not to pass out but it turned out he did anyway and when he came to, he was in the back seat of a black van, pinned between two guys, his knees crushed painfully together.

"Where we heading?" he asked, looking from one man to the other.

Neither of them acknowledged him. He scratched a hand through his hair, forgetting about the gauze on his temple. Touching the tender area sent a throb of pain through his head and he swallowed against rising bile. The van took a corner tightly and he was jarred to the side. He grit his teeth and clamped his eyes shut.

"Uh, you might want to drive more carefully. Not feeling too hot back here."

Again John was ignored and thought it would be some small victory if he managed to puke all over one of these guys knees.

The more he was tossed around, the more he was made aware of the closed confines and the two bodies pressed unbearably against him. When he started sweating and his stomach churned he knew he'd lost the internal battle.

"I'm going to be sick," he said matter-of-factly, to which one of the men shuffled aside to give him room. "_Seriously_ guys……."

A bump in the road had John swallowing the bile that was rushing into his mouth. His captor to the left leaned in close and obviously recognized the signs, because he was creeping forward and banging on the wall of the van. A small compartment slid open, he whispered something to the driver and then the van was pulled over sharply.

With the engine still running, the door was slid open and Sheppard moved to get up immediately. A hand on his shoulder and a gun in his back reminded him not to do anything stupid. That was the least of John's concerns. He crawled to the open door and vomited.

The cool air on his face was a welcome relief and as he coughed and wiped his mouth he took the opportunity to have a look around at their surroundings. He didn't know how long they'd been driving but he recognized the terrain.

He got sloppy, took too long and he was pulled back into the van.

"Thanks, I-"

John wasn't expecting what happened next. Before he could react, he was pushed face down onto the floor.

"What the hell?"

The waistband of his pants was hitched down to expose his thigh. John struggled against the hands that had him immobile. There was the glint of something metal in his peripheral vision and suddenly the pain in his head was long forgotten and replaced by excruciating agony in his thigh.

A string of expletives escaped his mouth and one of the men clamped his mouth shut as he panted and squirmed beneath them.

It was as if every nerve ending in his body had woken up and were all screaming for respite. Something was buried into the wound and John tried to bite the hand over his mouth.

"You found it?" he heard one of the men say.

Whatever was digging around in his leg hurt like a bitch. More nerve endings were violated, sending spasms of white hot agony through his body and he choked on more bile.

And then it was over and John could feel the blood dripping down his leg as they finally released him.

"Got it!"

John tried to even out his breathing and work out what had just happened to him.

"What the…….. _fuck_ was……. that?"

But before they'd even answered, his addled brain managed to figure it out and he knew he was screwed.

They'd removed his subcutaneous transmitter. The only way that Rodney could track him. His only hope for rescue.

The van started up again and the transmitter was tossed out the window.

There was a sharp burst of pain in the back of his head and then the floor was rushing up meet him.

--

Dave Sheppard had been sitting in the same room for hours.

He hadn't eaten and his stomach protested loudly. There were no facilities in what looked like a storage room. He couldn't believe this was happening to him. This only happened in the films.

Dave continued to sit, tapping his fingers against his thigh, wondering if anyone would ever find him here. Apart from his brother there was nobody to check in with him and he hadn't exactly heard from John before the funeral. A four year marriage had recently ended in divorce and the only other person that he'd regular contact with was dead. Before his father's death, they'd shared a strong bond out of circumstance.

The dead bolt was released and Dave pushed himself further into the corner, feeling a mixture of relief and fear.

Four men dragged somebody in. Whoever it was, they were out cold and their feet scraping lifelessly across the floor.

It was only when they deposited the man on the ground did he realize it was John.

"What have you done to him?" Dave went to get up but one of the men pinched a nerve in his shoulder and he was reduced to his knees, eyes watering in pain.

He watched from the sidelines feeling horribly detached.

Mike was leaning against the door frame. He gave John a long look before turning to leave.

The door was closed and dead bolted again.

For a long time, Dave just stayed where he was and stared at John. He was lying on his front, hands splayed out beside him with his legs twisted awkwardly. He noticed the gauze on his head and couldn't work out how that had happened.

What had his brother done?

He'd considered the possibility that John had flown special operations missions. Too many times John had just upped and disappeared and on more than one occasion Nancy had been on the phone, fraught with worry because she didn't know how to reach his brother. She never knew the nature of John's work in the Air Force despite climbing the ladder at the Pentagon.

"John?" he crawled across the floor, ignoring the dirt and grime and came to kneel beside his brother.

He wasn't a doctor but John didn't look good. He was breathing in short sharp pants.

"John?" He reached out for his hand and gave it an experimental tug. "Hey……."

There was a flicker of life under John's eyelids and the ghost of movement.

"John?" Dave looked over at the door nervously and then back to his brother.

He didn't know what to do or how to make this right. This wasn't the boardroom and his other area of expertise was fine wines, classical music and horses. He hadn't acknowledged this world even existed. For the first time in along time, since John had first left for Afghanistan, he was worried for his brother.

"Dammit John."

Dave stood and walked over to the door.

He hammered on it in quick succession and shouted. "Hey! Can anyone hear me? My brother needs medical attention!" He waited and when there was no answer tried again. "You can't just leave him like this……_please_?"

John groaned but he wasn't making an attempt to wake up. Dave felt panicked. He couldn't recall a time when he had really seen anybody unconscious like this.

"Hey! We need help in here!"

Having no luck at the door, he returned to his brother's side.

"I don't know what the hell you've gotten yourself into," he told John as he made himself more comfortable. "But you have some serious explaining to do."

Dave sat beside John for hours, periodically checking that he was still breathing and berating his unconscious sibling for having dragged him into this mess. John would stir occasionally, make some nonsense sound and then resume his perfect impression of a dead body.

Their captors bought him some water and food at one point. Dave managed to appeal to one of the men's better sides and a wet rag was given to him to wipe the dried blood off John's face.

He was just finishing the last of his sandwich when John started to groan again, only this time, he moved his hand and seemed on his way back to the land of the living.

Dave felt an odd surge of over protectiveness for his younger brother. "Hey Mop Top," he scolded him in a low voice. "Wake up!"

He waited, cringing at the verbalization of a childhood nickname that hadn't been uttered in years. And then….

"I _told_ you……never to call me that _again_." John rewarded him with a scowl, his eyes blessedly open.

Dave smiled and released the breath he had been holding for so long. "You look like hell."

"Feel it…" John said as he pressed his forehead against the cool floor. "You okay?"

He couldn't believe John was asking if he was okay. He wasn't the one bleeding from a nasty head wound. He wasn't the one that had been dragged in unconscious. "Not really. Can't say I understand what's going on if I'm completely honest."

"My fault." John told him, voice slurred with weariness. "Sorry."

John reached out a hand and Dave managed to get him in a sitting position that comprised of him leaning into his knees and breathing heavily.

"What's going on John?"

His brother glanced at him guiltily but didn't offer an explanation.

"John?"

"There are……a few things you don't know about me…."

"You're telling me!" His relief at his brother waking quickly evolved into anger. "You disappear for years and then-"

"That's kind of what I'm talking about." John moved to get up and Dave tried to stop him, but his brother was stubborn. Always had been. "But we can't talk here. They might be listening."

"They? You know, I'm tired and more than a little pissed off right now. The least you could do is _tell_ me something!"

"Like I said." John raised his hands to placate him. "I'll explain everything when I know we can talk. Right now, we've got to keep our heads down and-"

Dave stood to join him. "You've done something haven't you?"

"No."

"Well you've got these guys going all out to bring you here!"

"Please," John begged as he rubbed at his temples. "Not _now_."

There was an edge to his voice that Dave wasn't familiar with. He had so many questions but his brother was being frustratingly evasive. He couldn't help but think that it shouldn't be this way. They should be closer. Most people he knew got along with their brothers or sisters. He couldn't understand why they couldn't be like the millions of siblings in the world, fighting over trivial things instead of years of silence and secrecy.

"You're not looking too good. Maybe you should sit down."

"I'm _fine_ Dave."

"Just like you were _fine_ when you fell of one of the thoroughbreds?"

"In _my_ defense, I thought my arm was just bruised."

"It was broken."

John gave him a look that told him he was bored of hearing the story.

"And it wasn't till a day later that we found that out. Dad was furious."

"Dad was mad that I rode one of the horses."

"Well you should have known better."

"I _thought_ I could handle it."

Dave couldn't help smile a little. He didn't know which was funnier; the moment John fell off the horse or John's face when he realized the horse was bolting the paddock. It took him thirty minutes to persuade it to come back.

John leaned against the far wall; hands braced either side of him for support. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

"So am I," Dave reflexively smoothed the creases out of his pants and tried to rub the grime out of his shirt. "I've got an important meeting with the shareholders tomorrow morning and we've got a new colt arriving that needs breaking in. I guess I'll have to reschedule."

He saw John's eyes glaze over at the mention of the business. Even now he couldn't even maintain a superficial interest.

"I'll get us out of here. My team will find us."

"More civilian contractors?"

"They'll find us."

"You know that for sure?"

"I do." And then John looked up when the door began to open.

John, for whatever reason, pushed himself off the far wall and came to stand in front of him. Being taller, Dave could still see over the top of that mess John called hair.

Mike entered the room. "Colonel Sheppard."

John took a limping step forward. "I don't think we've met."

"No," Mike told him. "We haven't. But I've read _all_ about you."

"Always nice to have fans. You went to all this trouble to get an autograph right?" John quipped and Dave couldn't help but think it was a little cocky to presume he could get away with juvenile jokes.

"If you'll follow me, we can have a chat in private."

John advanced without question and without fear. He spared a look at Dave. "I'll be right back."

--


	4. Chapter 4

John followed his mysterious captor through a large hangar, making sure to memorize everything about the place. He was guided over to a chair and sat down, glad for respite from his pounding head.

"I'll have someone get you some Tylenol," the man said as he sat opposite him.

"My head's just fine."

"Yes I'm sure," the man looked skeptical.

"So." John glanced over at the guards surrounding him. "Are you going to tell me your name or do I have to guess?"

"You can call me Mike."

"Mike," John smiled. "I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you but I'd be lying through my teeth."

Mike calmly folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. "Well, we're certainly glad to have you with us."

"So you have me. There's no need to keep my brother locked up."

"You're not in a position to bargain with me Colonel and as much as I would like to let your brother go, I'm afraid I can't. He may prove useful if your DNA is anything to go by."

"I don't know what you're talking about?"

"Of course you do."

"I was hit pretty hard over the head; maybe I've forgotten a few details."

"I'm sure you haven't forgotten about your participation in the Stargate program or that special gene you possess."

"Doesn't ring any bells."

"There's no point playing dumb. We already know everything about you."

John couldn't help but arch an eyebrow.

"Somebody at Homeland Security was a little too persistent in trying to access your private files."

John swallowed thickly and instantly knew who was responsible. His ex wife Nancy had admitted being stone walled upon looking him up.

"Naturally this was of interest to us and after a little investigation of our own we managed to attain information on your whereabouts. Even medical charts."

"I'll have to chat to their IT department, get them to upgrade their firewalls," John told him.

Mike seemed to find that amusing. "We've managed to get our hands on a few pieces of ancient technology. We'd be interested to find out your opinion and of course how to activate them."

"Wrong guy for the job."

"Yes well, I'm sure we could have brought Doctor McKay here, however, you have the strongest natural gene and we've read his file and learned that he is difficult to work with."

"And I'm a synch right? Are you sure you read my file? I've heard I'm pretty pesky."

"With your brother alongside you, I'm sure you would like to assure his safety by not trying anything stupid."

"Oh, I'm pretty dense. Especially when blood relatives are involved."

"Yes well," Mike seemed to grow bored of their chat. "We'll start in the morning; however, a change of scenery is beneficial." He made a show of checking his watch. "I'll give you an hour to eat and get better familiarized with your options and then we'll make a move. I don't want to give your friends at the SGC a chance to locate us, even with the removal of your transmitter."

--

"Would you stop that?"

Rodney ignored Ronon. "When I'm stressed I pace."

"It's annoying."

Rodney sighed and turned to the Satedan. He was leaning against the ambulance with his arms crossed.

"Where are they anyway?" Rodney stepped out into the road and scanned the darkness for lights. "Sheppard could be anywhere by now."

"Still think I could track him. Just say the word."

"Okay, I will. _Moronic_. Because only a moron would think he could find Sheppard out here. We're not off-world; there are no snapped twigs to follow. There are roads, lots and lots of roads leading in lots of different directions and-"

"I'm not a moron," Ronon bristled. "I'm just saying that we're wasting time here."

"And I agree, but I need a Life Signs Detector if we're to find Sheppard and it's not like we have the Daedalus on hand to just beam him out of wherever he is."

"We've got an ETA on our back up. Should be here in a few minutes," the young Lt. informed them.

"You said a few minutes, a _few_ _minutes_ ago," Rodney snapped and then to Ronon, "We shouldn't have let him go."

"You know Sheppard."

"Yes he's stubborn and he makes too many impulsive decisions."

"Sounds like him."

There were sirens in the distance and lights heading their way.

"About time!" Rodney muttered irritably. He tended to get that way when one of his friends had been kidnapped. No, not kidnapped. _Handed_ himself over willingly to the kidnappers. "Why did he do that anyway?"

"They have his brother."

Rodney flagged down the cars and felt a pang of guilt, because he'd do the same for Jeannie. He'd been willing to die for her. Sheppard's sacrifice was no different.

Ronon joined him at the roadside. "And he'd do it for us, too."

People piled out of vehicles, creating chaos and noise. Rodney was only interested in one person. Lt. Colonel Cameron Mitchell whistled him over and handed him his LSD.

"Heard you could use a hand."

"We could have used a hand _hours_ ago. Not that I'm ungrateful for you whisking this over to us, but we've lost valuable time twiddling our thumbs out here."

Cameron raised his eyebrows and Rodney didn't miss the roll of his eyes as he said, "Requisitioning a fleet of F302's at short notice wasn't exactly a picnic either, doctor."

"I'm sure it was very difficult signing on the dotted line."

"Is he always like this?" Cameron asked, not even hiding the disdain in his voice.

"Pretty much," Ronon informed him.

"Anyway," Cameron continued. "I've mobilized teams to help us. We'll _find_ Colonel Sheppard."

"Good, great, wonderful. Can we go now?" Rodney asked waving the LSD in the air. "I have a signal. Which one's your car?"

Cameron pointed to a black SUV and before he could utter another word Rodney was already climbing into the passenger seat and shouting. "Come on then!"

--

Dave had tried to get more information out of his brother but when he returned to their cell he had sat in the corner with his head in his hands. Apparently, his head injury was more severe then he thought because no sooner did John close his eyes did he sleep until their captors came along to take them away.

John was startled awake. One of the men handcuffed him, but surprisingly, they left Dave unrestrained. He couldn't help but notice the way they watched his brother closely. It was as if they were expecting him to do something and their eyes were full of distrust, even as John walked to their transport. Dave had to wonder why they were treating him like that. It was the first time he'd ever considered if his brother was truly a dangerous man to be around.

It wasn't a black van this time. It was a black SUV with tinted windows. They were both pushed into the back seat and the doors locked, but the mechanism within had been disabled so they couldn't get out. John leaned against the window looking every bit as exhausted as Dave felt and silently worked his jaw. There was a tension radiating off John that Dave had never encountered before. It was as if he couldn't let himself shut off, even if earlier indication showed that he so needed to.

"You okay?" Dave asked as the car engine powered up.

"Just thinking," John told him.

"I meant your head."

"Yeah," John waved his hand dismissively. "I'll live."

"Where are we going?"

John turned to look out the window. "Another facility I guess."

Mike who sat in the passenger seat twisted around to talk to them. "Colonel Sheppard, you're not going to have an opportunity to memorize the route." He tossed two bags over to their captor in the back seat. "Make sure they can't see."

John sagged back into his seat and sighed.

The sacks were placed over their heads and then Dave was reduced to listening only to sound.

--

Ronon was knee deep in mud, the rain falling steadily and there was still no sign of John. "McKay!"

Rodney was standing to the side with an umbrella and he was careful to avoid getting remotely dirty. "This is where the signal leads……." He scanned the muddy bog in front of them. "Oh God…you don't think……..they…..and then they…."

Ronon picked up another clump of the sticky mud. "No and no McKay."

Cameron was standing off to his left, also covered in mud. "Maybe you made a mistake?"

Ronon laughed and Rodney, as predicted, looked insulted, "I do not make mistakes! This is where the signal led us……I don't understand-"

"Does this explain it?" Cameron started to drag himself back to dry land and dropped a metallic disc into Rodney's hand. "Look familiar?"

Ronon recognized it. He had one himself. "They're dead."

"They cut it out of him….." Rodney's eyes widened. "Oh no no no no. We can't track him. Without this he's just another dot. We're screwed."

Ronon stepped out onto the road and didn't even bother to shake off the dirt, "No, Sheppard's screwed."

--


	5. Chapter 5

--

They were corralled out of the van and into a new facility. The cloth sacks weren't removed until they were standing in the middle of a lab surrounded by equipment and men in white coats. For a minute John was disorientated, fighting to stay cognizant through the throbbing in his head. Dave was standing tensely beside him, shoulders bunched up, hands twisting nervously.

"Colonel Sheppard." Mike gestured to the room. "This will be your new home."

"Could use a few throw pillows." Dave elbowed him in the side.

A man in a white lab coat approached them both with syringes. "If you could hold out your arm."

Dave looked between John and the doctor. "Why?"

Mike explained. "This is Doctor Henning. If you'd be kind enough to provide blood samples."

"What are we doing here?" Dave finally asked when his turn with the needle was over.

Mike ignored him. "We'll give you an hour to rest. I'm sure you're both tired. Colonel Sheppard, I'll get my medic to look over you and I'll get my men to bring you some food and water."

They were pushed through to a small cell that was connected to the lab.

John immediately sagged onto the cot bed and closed his eyes. He hated feeling so damn exhausted. With his transmitter removed he doubted the others would be able to find them easily, so he'd have to start making plans for escape. He just needed to wait it out and take the first opportunity to leave; only he wasn't sure if his brother would be up to the task. Dave was restless and pacing the room.

"So, are you going to tell me what's going on now?"

John felt guilty, only now realizing the implications this was having on his innocent brother.

"John?"

He didn't answer, couldn't find the words through the fog in his head.

"If you don't tell me right now I swear to god," Dave told him. "I need to know what's going on with you."

When John opened his eyes his brother was stood across from him with his arms crossed and with a determined look in his eyes.

"I can't tell you what I do. All I can say is that my job carries a heavy burden of responsibility and-"

"A heavier responsibility than the one to your own brother?"

John heaved in a shaky breath. He'd never had to face this before.

"I'm the Commanding Officer of a secret base. What we do…..it's important.""

"I think you hit your head harder than you realize. After everything that went on in Afghanistan, you're telling me you got promoted. That you're in Command?"

"Yes."

Dave stared at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"Trust me when I say that without the work I'm doing, you wouldn't be here."

"Secret bases? A Command position? And you're making this sound like its life or death or something."

"It kind of is."

"So what do these people want with you?"

"They want information."

"About? Oh I _guess_ that's classified too." Dave rubbed his face wearily. "Okay, so what do we do?"

"We wait. If an opportunity presents itself for escape we'll have to take it."

"You're in no condition, John. You stand for more than a few minutes and you're exhausted."

"If I have to, I'll be able to move."

"Or you'll do yourself more damage. And how exactly are we supposed to get out of here?"

Dave was beginning to sound like McKay and he realized that he missed his friend. Mostly because McKay usually had all the answers.

"When I've figured that part out I'll let you know."

"I don't know if I can just sit around and wait. This is all too much."

Dave dropped onto the bed and pushed his head into his hands. John lay back and closed his eyes. They remained like that for a few minutes before the door was opened, food was dropped off, and they were left alone again.

"I wouldn't eat the food if I was you," John told his brother as he reached for a plate.

"Why?"

"They might be drugging it. The water's bottled so that should be fine."

"I'm hungry John."

"Lookit, from experience I know how this works. Just trust me on this."

"From experience? You've been captured before?"

"Yeah."

"And here I was thinking you were pushing papers in an office somewhere Colonel."

--

An hour later, Dave was still trying to process what John had told him and he was having difficulty believing him.

They were visited by a doctor at one point who flashed a light in John's eyes and cleaned up his head wound. They also checked his thigh which looked as though a big chunk had been hacked out of it. A clean dressing was applied and then John was bodily dragged from the room, barely awake from his little nap and Dave was left on his own again.

From their cell he could peer through a barred window and see that John was strapped into a chair.

"Colonel Sheppard, if you relax this will go a lot quicker."

"Easier said than done. What the hell do you want from me anyway?"

"I'm just here to run tests."

"Yeah, on _me_, so forgive me if I want more information."

There was silence and Dave pressed his face against the bars to better hear.

"I am sure that you are aware that we have managed to come by a few pieces of Ancient technology."

Dave didn't understand what the doctor was referring to. Ancient Technology?

"Yeah, about that. How exactly did that happen?"

"That doesn't concern you."

"And here I was all concerned."

"We're interested in the applications for the diverse technologies we have scavenged as well as possibly replicating it. Most importantly, we need to develop an artificial gene therapy to use them. You have one of the strongest natural genes around and we're aware that there's a mental component to activating the devices. We simply want you to turn things on and off, we'll monitor the readings on the screen. Simple."

"Like you said, there's a strong mental component," he heard his brother say. "I'm not sure how strong it's going to be while I have this headache."

"So you're saying that you have to be mentally healthy to use the devices. It's not simply a case of touch."

Dave heard John laugh tersely. "I'm _just_ saying. If nothing happens, don't blame me."

The doctor disappeared out of sight and then returned with a circular object in his hand. Dave squinted to get a better view but at this distance he couldn't quite make out what it was.

"Now Colonel, I should mention that we've hooked you up to a chair that is designed to give you a shock should you fail to follow my instructions. We don't know what these devices do, so if you try anything, I _will_ shock you. I've heard it's quite painful. I'm sure in your current condition you'd want to avoid anything that would make your headache worse."

Devices? Gene? Mental connections? What the hell had John got involved with? Some kind of Military experiment? And now he was connected to a chair that was going to torture him.

Dave watched as the object was dropped in front of John. His brother just stared at it.

"Colonel, please pick up the device."

John crossed his arms across his chest. "You know, my people will find this place and when they do they'll probably do something stupid. My friend Ronon, he tends to get a little angry when I'm kidnapped and held against my will. So I'm just saying-"

The doctor turned around and snapped his fingers at the two goons by the door. Dave struggled to see again as they blocked his view, but there appeared to be a struggle. When one of them moved slightly he could see that one of them was holding John's hand and pressing the device into it.

Dave didn't know what he was expecting to see after the doctor's speech, but nothing happened. Whatever John was holding remained inert.

"Colonel Sheppard, please activate the device."

John was remarkably calm. "Maybe it's broken."

"Preliminary scans indicated it had an energy source. If you continue to fight this I will have to hurt you, I'd prefer not to."

"Not my fault the damn things broken."

"Step back!" the doctor ordered and the goons released John. "I warned you Colonel. Pick it up!"

"I _don't_ feel like it."

A second later, John spasmed back and forth in the chair. His back went ramrod straight, his muscles tensed but he didn't make a sound. The device dropped onto the table with a loud thud marking the end of his brother's shock treatment.

Dave clamped a hand over his mouth and looked away, leaning heavily against the door to regain some composure.

"Colonel."

Dave returned to his vantage point. He wanted confirmation that his brother was okay. John was leaning forward in the chair, head dropped down at his chest.

"Colonel."

At the insistent voice, John lifted his head. "I'm _not_ helping you."

"I would suggest that you do so." The doctor looked frustrated. "Shock him again."

--

John was unconscious when they bought him back to the cell. Dave wanted to stay and make sure he was okay, but he was instructed to take the same seat as his brother.

"What have you done to him?" he asked Doctor Henning in a panicked voice, "You're going to kill him."

His wrists were strapped to the arm rest. When he tried to move them, there was very little give. The wood under his fingertips was splintered and rough and he wondered if his brother was responsible. Had he been in that much pain?

"He is perfectly fine. Just a little exhausted from resisting."

He'd seen and heard John cry out when he was shocked the second time round. They kept telling him to stop blocking it. Whatever _it_ was. Dave didn't want to be subjected to the same torture.

"What were you doing to him?"

The doctor placed the device he had seen earlier in front of him. Dave gave it the once over, but refused to reach out and touch it.

"What were you talking about before?"

"Just pick up the device Mr. Sheppard."

Dave eyed the object in front of him. It was about the size of a cell phone but with smooth edges. There was some writing on the topside of the device but he didn't recognize the language.

"Your brother is a natural carrier of the gene. You should also have strong abilities when it comes to activating these devices. Just pick it up."

Dave went to pick it up but he hesitated and instead allowed his hand to hover over it. His hand was inches away when he felt his fingers tingle and warmth spread up his arm. The sensation was odd and unfamiliar and he drew his hand back quickly, massaging the strange feeling away.

"What was that?"

The doctor looked aggravated but he supplied him with an explanation nonetheless. "You possess a gene left over from a long dead race called the Ancients. The gene was used to activate ancient technology. It was a safeguard to prevent their enemies using their technology. There are only a handful of people in the world who have this gene."

"I don't…." He didn't understand. None of this made sense.

"Now, please Mr. Sheppard, _pick_ up the device."

"Will it hurt me?" Dave glanced back towards the cell and wondered if John was awake yet and listening like he had earlier.

"If it causes you harm I will sever your link immediately."

"I still don't understand all of this."

"You don't need to."

Without really thinking, Dave reached out and cupped the device in his hand. It was just an oversized paperweight. He didn't know how it could hurt to just hold it.

"That's it. Continue as you are."

Dave couldn't believe it when he looked down. The device in his hand, that had remained dull upon John's touch, was glowing intensely between his fingers. The warm tingly sensation hummed throughout his body. It wasn't completely uncomfortable. It was actually quite pleasant.

"How am I doing this?"

Doctor Henning was too busy typing away at a laptop and smiling like the cat that got the cream. "That's what we want to find out."

--

John was awake when he was returned to the cell. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Dave dropped down beside John and couldn't help but grin like an idiot. "That was amazing!"

It took a second for John to register what he'd just said.

"That thing…….device….it lit up like a Christmas tree when I touched it and the feeling…" He stared at his hands as if he'd only just discovered them. "The warmth, the tingle…..I've never felt anything like it. I made it light up John………… just by touching it!"

John empathized with his excitement, but at the same time couldn't help but feel angry. "You activated the device?"

"Yes. I just reached out, picked it up and…." His brother paused. "What?"

"You can't do that again," John stood up to pace.

"But that's what they want. If we co-operate they'll let us go."

"If we co-operate they won't have a reason to keep us alive for much longer."

"But……"

"We can't help these people."

"Why not?"

"Because they're the enemy," John told him, pointing accusingly at the door. "_Next_ time you _have_ to resist. I'll help you."

"What like you did? Look where that got you!"

"Just trust me on this."

"Why didn't you tell me about this? This is why they need you right?"

John reached up and raked a hand through his hair. His hands were still shaking and his head was pounding. Being here with Dave was making everything ten times worse. How could he ask him to resist when he was going to be in pain for doing so?

"It's _one_ of the reasons they need me," John told him eventually. "Next time they take you away. Next time they sit you down in front of a device…..try and block the natural impulse to connect. Think of anything and everything, but just don't think on."

"I don't know that I can do that."

"If we get out of here Dave, I promise I'll fill in the details. But to do that we need to stall them."

Dave melted into the bed and beamed. "It really was amazing."

John knew exactly what he meant. "I know."

--

Rodney entered the motel room and gave it the same level of disgust he had given it that morning. Empty takeaway boxes, packets and bottles and the same unmade beds.

"I hate this place!" he told Ronon as he dumped everything from his bed onto the floor.

Ronon picked up one of the takeaway boxes and started picking at the contents. He hardly reacted to Rodney's rants anymore. In fact, he acted as if Rodney hadn't even spoken.

"How many warehouses, outhouses, and abandoned facilities have we checked now?"

Ronon shrugged and with his foot switched on the television.

"How you can eat at a time like this and how you can eat that!" Rodney pushed the heel of his hands into his eyes. "I hate this place."

"Sheppard's around here somewhere. We'll find him."

Rodney snorted as he kicked off his shoes. "And until then?"

"He'll be holding his own."

"He was concussed! He wasn't thinking straight!" Rodney tested the mattress. "I hate this."

"Sheppard isn't going to let an injury stop him."

"But-"

"_Eat_ McKay." And Ronon tossed him a bag of chips.

--

Dave had been lying on his cot with his eyes closed when he heard John tumble off his own bed and suddenly retch.

"John?" Dave instantly jumped into action and came to kneel beside his brother.

John sagged and dropped to the floor. Dave barely had time to react, but he managed to cushion his brother's fall with a well placed hand.

"John?" Dave snapped his fingers in front of John's face to get his eyes to track. They were unfocused. "Damn. You're burning up."

"Tired," John told him and tried to curl onto his side.

Dave was reluctant to let him go but he had to get help. "Hang on."

Pounding on the door for a few minutes brought two burly looking guards dressed in black to his cell window. The door was pulled open and Doctor Henning slinked in, already snapping on latex gloves.

"What happened?" The doctor asked, peeling John's eyelids up.

"I don't know. He was sick and then he just collapsed. Is he okay?"

Doctor Henning was silent, counting off John's pulse with a blank expression.

"Doctor?"

"I suspect this is the result of your brother's head injury. Or perhaps infection. We'll move him into our infirmary for the night."

"Can I go with you?" The words spilled out before Dave remembered they were prisoners.

"I'm afraid not. Don't worry; you'll see him in the morning."

The two guards easily picked John up between them. He dangled limply between them, oblivious to being moved.

"I suggest you get some rest Mr. Sheppard," The doctor said. "You have a long day ahead of you."

--

Dave hadn't been able to sleep. He'd spent most of the night peering through his cell window and into the darkened lab, waiting for news on his brother's condition. But Doctor Henning didn't come back to let him know that he was okay. Apparently his human decency didn't stretch that far.

It was only when the lights flickered on did he realize it was morning and then the smell of bitter coffee was drifting towards him.

"My brother?" Dave shouted through the bars. "Is he okay?"

Doctor Henning took an exaggerated sip of his coffee and feigned deafness.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Sheppard," Doctor Henning strolled towards him and smiled.

"How's John? I want to see him."

"He's fine. Spent most the night sleeping."

Dave leaned against the bars, relieved. "Can I talk to him?"

"Later." The doctor flicked his hand dismissively. "Best not to worry about him right now. We have work to do."

"Not until I see him."

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice."

Dave clenched his fists and felt the flourish of anger burn through him. There really was no reasoning with these men. The anger didn't abate when he was dragged out of his cell and strapped into the chair again.

Doctors bustled around their makeshift work stations, guards came and went and Henning fiddled around on his computer.

Another device was placed on the table in front of him.

"Just do what you did before."

Dave shot the doctor an irritated look and then turned his attention to the device. John had told him to block the impulse to activate any more devices, but he didn't know how to do that. Just being in its vicinity had his fingers twitching closer and Dave longed for the strange warmth and the dizzying levels of adrenaline he had felt the day before. It was like a drug to an addict.

"I don't think I can," he lied.

"You don't have to _think_…..just pick it up."

Dave shook his head. "I want to see my brother."

"We all want something. I told you he's perfectly fine. He was sleeping when I left him. Would you rather I woke him from much needed rest just to allay your concerns?"

"Yes, I would."

Doctor Henning laughed and turned his attention to his work station. "I'm sure your brother will tell you that the shock that this chair gives is quite unpleasant."

Dave swallowed thickly, stomach churning, but he wasn't about to back down.

"And your brother is military. I'm sure he's been subject to torture before."

Dave hadn't considered that.

"He would have been trained for it." Henning paused. "Therefore, I'm certain he has a high threshold for pain."

Dave curled his fists in a bid to put more distance between his magic gene and the device.

"And yet, when we shocked him, he was _easily_ subdued. Make no mistake Mr. Sheppard, if I want to, I can cause you a great deal of pain."

Doctor Henning gestured to the device again and Dave simply stared at it.

"Do you want that?"

Of course he didn't. Nobody wanted pain, whether it was physical or emotional. His chest hurt simply reliving the moment 'real' doctors had informed him of his father's death. That had been the worst kind of pain. He hadn't dealt with that easily and he didn't think he had the mental capacity to resist physical pain like John had.

Before he knew what he was doing he was picking the object up. He tried to think of anything but activating it, but like a leaking tap, he could feel his resolve trickling away until the faucet was turned on and the device became awash with light.

"Very good," the doctor told him. "I'm seeing an increase in power and an equal increase in brain stimulation."

Dave blinked against the light that felt like it was searing his retinas.

"Ah….it's spiking. But no indication of what it does yet. Any idea?"

Dave tried to resist but he couldn't seem to switch off.

"Focus….we might be onto something here."

It was too much. Dave was beginning to feel light headed, as if the device was sapping his energy. The light was getting brighter and practically filling the room. He was aware of low level chatter but soon enough it distorted into white noise.

"You can let go."

He wanted to but he couldn't do it.

"Mr. Sheppard," Henning's voice was raised now. "Please _release_ the device. The energy levels are spiking incrementally and I –"

Henning's words were cut off when the device started humming. A second later and it emitted a flash of brilliant white light.

Henning cried out. That he was being shocked barely registered until Dave felt his muscles start to contract painfully. It overrode his hold on the device and he found himself twitching and spasming with each shock that rode through his nerve endings.

He dropped the device and flopped forward, panting hard in an attempt to recover his breath. Henning was bent double, pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes and groaning.

"What was that?"

Henning straightened and blinked rapidly, hands feeling for a solid point of contact.

"Are you okay?" he couldn't help asking.

"I can't see. I told you to drop it!"

"Sorry." But he was smiling anyway.

Henning shambled towards the door, calling out for assistance as he went and eventually bumped into the far wall with a thud. He felt around and dropped into a seat as his colleagues rushed in to help him.

"Get him back into his cell."

--

John had known he wasn't in Atlantis' infirmary when he woke up. The fact that his hands were cuffed to the bed was the first clue. He tested their resistance briefly and then sagged back. He vaguely remembered what had happened to bring him here. He had a lingering headache and his stomach was still unsettled but he felt stronger than he had in days.

John hated concussions and he'd endured far too many over the last four years. They left him feeling nauseous and unbalanced. Worst of all they made him feel detached and he needed to be focused. He had a responsibility to his brother, after dragging him into this mess, to get him out safely.

John had already noted their position within the facility. Even with the sack on his head he had managed to gauge their direction and counted steps. From the lab it was seventy steps left, fifteen right and twenty-two straight on. He had no clue where they were but from his brief look out of the van when he was initially captured, the length of the drive from the last place to this facility and the type of road they were driving on, he figured they were still in the mountains. He just had to find an opportunity to escape.

"You're back with us."

Mike was standing in the doorway.

"Seems that way." John plucked at the covers and tried to sit up but the handcuffs made a loud clinking noise. "You worried I was going to escape?"

Mike stepped into the room, looking out of place in his sharp black suit. "Forgive us if we were being overly cautious."

"You can't get away with this forever."

"Who said anything about forever?" Mike pulled up a chair but didn't sit down. He leaned against it instead. "We'll use you for as long as we can and then-"

"Let us go?" John deadpanned.

"You know how this works, Colonel."

"My team will find us."

"Keep convincing yourself of that fact. As far as I can tell there are no SGC personnel hammering down our doors."

"It's just a matter of time."

"Of course." Mike was dismissive and disinterested and John wondered why he was even here. "Colonel. You realize that there is a place on our team for you. We could let your brother go and you could work for us. You'd have valuable insight into-"

"_Not_ going to happen."

"The option is there. I'd at least think about it. That is if your headache isn't too bad."

"Like I told you before, my head's just fine."

"Of course Colonel. Of course."

--

Dave was relieved when John was returned to their cell, walking unaided and with a little color to his previously pale cheeks.

"I'm okay," John told him before he could ask.

"Still as hard headed as always?"

"Something like that. Just saw Henning by the way, your handiwork?"

"Something like that," Dave admitted.

"I thought I told you not to activate any more devices."

"I thought you said your head was fine before."

John twisted his lips together and Dave knew that was him conceding defeat.

They sat in companionable silence for a while and all Dave could dwell on was what the Doctor had mentioned before. He'd considered not asking the question at all, but he couldn't help be a little curious about his brother's exploits, so in the end he asked.

"So you've been captured before?"

"You want to talk about this now?"

"Yeah, I do. John?"

"What do you want to know Dave?"

"Henning mentioned you had a high threshold for pain. He seems to think you've been tortured before."

John stared at the far wall and answered in a flat tone. "It comes with the job description."

"And that is?"

"Not something I want to get into right now."

"Of course. Just like most things. You've become the poster child for running away, John."

"I'm not going to get into details, Dave. There are things that I've been involved in, _am_ involved in, that I just can't talk about. This isn't me lying to you or running away. This is me not being able to _talk_ about it."

"You've changed."

The conflict in John's eyes only lasted a second. He must have seen something in Dave's expression.

"I had to," he admitted.

"There was a time…...when you told me everything."

John met his gaze and looked a little broken by the accusation. "And then you'd run to dad and tell him as well."

"He had a right to know you were joining the forces."

Dave admitted he'd been wrong to tell their father before John got a chance to explain, but at the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. He didn't want John to leave either.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing. I'm still your brother."

"You look like him but you don't sound like him anymore. You're secretive and….._and_ distant. My brother wouldn't have run out on his own father's wake for anything and yet you leapt at the chance."

"I had to. You wouldn't understand but-"

"--You're job, whatever it is, was more important. I get that."

"Obviously you don't or you wouldn't keep bringing it up."

"Excuse me if I'm a little stressed right now. I haven't got a clue what's going on, my own brother who obviously knows what's happening won't tell me. I have some freaky gene I never knew I had and our father's business could be going down the pan right now because I was relying on backing from some highly influential people and I couldn't go to the damn meeting because I'm stuck here!"

"I'm sorry."

Dave couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't sit here with this stranger and have this conversation again. "You're always sorry."

--

"Please activate the device, Colonel."

John stared at the gadget and refused to move his hand towards it. They'd been here for days now and he had his routine down pat.

"Colonel."

This device was different. He didn't need to touch it to feel a connection.

"I'm growing tired," Henning admitted, rubbing his eyes.

John glanced at the doctor and then back to the table. This instrument was harmless. He'd seen plenty around Atlantis. It was a storage device and could be locked with a mental command.

"Colonel."

Just for shits and giggles John activated it without moving an inch and Doctor Henning reacted as if all his Christmases had come at once.

"How did you do that?"

John shrugged. "Guess it likes me."

"You didn't even have to touch it! Amazing! This would be useful….if we could find a way to enhance the gene and-"

As soon as Henning turned to get readings, John mentally locked it with a sixteen digit ancient number. The device dulled and went completely dead.

"What happened?"

John remained silent. Now only he could reactivate it.

If he connected and recited the number it would unlock to reveal priceless information. Some of these Ancient USB's (ASUB) were used to record diaries, command codes and many contained information about Ancient outposts and Atlantis itself. But there was no way John was going to tell Henning that. He'd rendered it useless to anyone but himself and he couldn't help but smile.

Obviously, he didn't smile in his head and he was feeling the brute force of the chair as it shocked him.

"I suggest you stop playing games and co-operate."

"I didn't even touch it," John told him.

"I know just what you did."

"Then why don't _you_ activate it." John braced himself for another round of pain but Mike entered the room and held a hand up to stall Henning's progress.

"Colonel Sheppard is an intelligent man. He knows exactly what he's doing." He came to stand in front of John and crossed his arms. "He knows that we need him. So, he knows he can play with you."

John refrained from commenting, interested in what Mike was getting at.

"Your brother has a natural talent for activating devices; however, he lacks the mental skill to control them. You, Colonel, are able to do both. We only really need one of you so I suggest you help the Doctor here and you ensure your brother lives a little longer."

Mike gripped him by his chin and wrenched his head around to where Dave was being manhandled into the room. John didn't miss the gun pressed into his back or the look in Dave's eyes that told him he was petrified.

"If you let my brother go then I might be a little more co-operative," John told them all.

"How many times? You can't bargain with us, Colonel."

"Then I can't help you."

Mike nodded and the guard cuffed Dave across the back of the head. Dave staggered and landed on his knees, blinking furiously but making a valiant attempt to stay upright.

"Are you going to help us?"

Dave's eyes begged him to help.

"Colonel?"

John didn't react. It took every ounce of strength but he clenched his jaw and bit his tongue.

"Very well." Mike gave the cue and the guard kicked his brother in the ribs.

Dave curled into a ball and yelled as each kick landed harder than the first.

John could only stand so much and he retaliated in kind, kicking Mike hard in the shin with his heavy boot. Mike reacted quickly. He took John's hand in his and wrenched his middle finger back, rotating it with a snap.

Dave made some choked noise, either in response to his own injuries or John's new one. John breathed deeply through his nose, fighting the urge to scream in agony while his brother looked on. The crooked finger was aching and already bruising around the swollen joint.

Mike leaned against the table, his face barely inches from Johns. "A rescue isn't coming Colonel. You need to make a decision. Help us or your last living family member joins your parents."

John felt his heart flutter inside his chest. Having never being faced with the prospect, the suggestion made him feel unusually panicky.

"Do. You. Understand?"

John nodded.

Mike massaged his shin. "Take him back to his cell. Doctor Henning, pass Colonel Sheppard the next item."

--

John was pushed back into the cell violently and Dave had to reach out and catch him before he connected with the far wall.

John pushed him away and twisted out of his grip. He realized belatedly that he'd grabbed his mangled finger.

"You need to activate those devices, John. He's going to kill me if you don't!"

John ignored him and waved him away from the bed. Being repeatedly shocked and concussed didn't seem to be slowing him down at all.

"They're not playing-"

"I _know_ that," John snapped as he turned the bed over and started pushing the mattress and the bed frame towards the door.

"You didn't say anything. You just let them hurt me…I…..What are you doing?"

John moved to the other bed. "Help me out here. Turn everything on its side and wedge it against the door."

Dave complied but was still confused. "I think we grew out of fort building a long time ago."

John shot him an amused look and then ushered him into the corner of the room. "Get down and stay down. When I give the signal we move out."

"John, what are you talking about?"

--

The next device had been blissfully familiar and it was finally one that John could use to their advantage. It wasn't ancient. _Far_ from it.

Henning rolled the spherical ball dangerously close to his hand and John knew that his gene wouldn't interact with it.

"That one doesn't look like the others," Mike remarked. "What's that writing on the side?"

John picked it up and pretended he was trying to activate it.

"I'm not picking up any reading," Henning told him. "In fact, there's no output at all."

"It's an ancient game," John lied.

"A game?" Henning looking interested but Mike was already batting his hands away from it.

"We don't have time for games doctor. If it's of no value then put it to the side."

"But it has to be something," Henning said with a look of disappointment.

"Not everything we got our hands on will be useful. This one's obviously junk."

John twisted the sphere in his hands, unlocking and clicking it into place. It blipped and started flashing red.

"What did you do?" Henning asked.

John replied in a dead pan tone. "I solved it."

"What do you win? Nothing has happened?"

Mike sighed and snatched the ball from John's hands and placed it on the side. "Perhaps we should continue……"

John acknowledged them both with a smirk, "The ancients had a strange sense of……entertainment."

Henning and Mike started talking over him, and John stared at the sphere. The first time he'd come across a similar device and nearly blown himself with it in the process, he had lost two men and spent an entire day getting thrown around and shot.

He'd never figured that the wraith would get him out of this mess.

--

"You set a bomb?!"

"My team aren't going to find me!" John told his brother. "This opportunity presented itself and I-"

"But a bomb?" Dave couldn't believe what he was hearing and John didn't even seem slightly fazed by what he had done. "A bomb? People could get hurt."

Dave expected something. _Anything_. But John's face was neutral, as if setting a deadly device was nothing.

"Yes. Now duck down. I set it to go off in a few minutes."

"That is just completely reckless and-" Dave's eyes went wide. "How did you know they'd bring you back here? It could have gone off when you were out there!"

"I told them I wasn't feeling that hot and that I needed a lie down before I fully co-operated. For whatever reason they let me."

"And if they hadn't?"

"Then at least you'd have half a shot of getting out of here."

Dave didn't know what to say. His brother was apparently suicidal as well as stupid.

"Look, it's going to detonate any-"

"You're going to bring this whole building down! Are you insane?" Dave felt panicked all of a sudden. His brother had been utterly careless.

John was calm as he explained. "The door and our re-enforcements will buffer the blast. It's a low yield bomb so the blast radius won't be too big. It'll be enough to blow this door off the hinges and provide enough of a distraction for us to get out of here."

"What?"

"Element of surprise," John told him. "It's our best chance. Look, I _do_ have a plan."

"John, this is ridiculous. What if you're wrong and this doesn't work? Aren't we supposed to have back up or……..or _something_? How are the two of us going to get out of here? We don't know how many people work here or more important where we are!"

"You're going to have to trust me on this."

"Because this is what you do?"

"Kind of."

"I thought you were a pilot?!"

"Every pilot has field training. Look, lets just say that my field of expertise has widened over the years."

Any reassurance that John offered wasn't making a damned bit of difference.

John looked to the door nervously and then back. "Just keep your head down and-"

The explosion was much louder than Dave could ever have imagined. The floor vibrated and plaster from the ceiling rained down on them. The door buckled inward. The mattresses and bed frames slid towards them and John stopped their progress with an outstretched foot.

Alarms started blaring and through the cell window he could see flames licking up as smoke began to pour in.

Dave was barely registering the chaos, while John was already up on his feet.

"Is it open?" Dave asked as John gave the door a pull.

"It's stuck…give me a hand."

They both pulled and twisted the metal from its shredded hinges; it started to give. Dave coughed into his fist when he breathed in a lungful of smoky air. In the lab, there were bodies on the floor. Dave couldn't tell if they were alive. Every one of them was bloody and battered and everything was destroyed.

"We need to get out of here... Dave?"

Dave turned to his brother and didn't feel as though he recognized him anymore. He was skirting around the bodies as if they were pieces of furniture and when he managed to find his voice, John was already patting down one of the guards and retrieving two handguns. John checked the clip, re-seated it and then double checked the safety.

"We need to _help_ these people." Dave stood awkwardly in the centre of the room.

The blaring alarm was drawing attention. Another guard entered the lab, hand up against his eyes to shield them from the smoke. Like a footballer going in for a tackle, John launched at him and used his forward momentum to bring the man down. There was a short struggle and then John smacked him in the face with the butt of his gun. He tucked the guard's weapon into the back of his pants and waved for Dave to follow him.

Dave remained where he was, unable to move, unable to think clearly.

"We need move now!"

"This is…" Dave swept his hands around the room. "You can't do this kind of thing. You just-"

"I _know_ that!" John snapped suddenly and a fleeting look of guilt ghosted his features. Then the shutters came down and his expression was cold again.

"You're going to get us killed! I say we wait here and-"

"Wait for what? Nothing happens if you sit around and wait. Trust me I've tried it! It just breaks you down. My team doesn't know we're here. A rescue isn't going to come. The police, the army..."

Dave choked on the smoke that was surrounding them and couldn't help but scan the room helplessly. John was right but this didn't make it any easier.

"Dave!" John grabbed him by the arm and started to haul him out of the room, with strength Dave hadn't expected.

He was a bigger man and had always been able to subdue his brother easily. The memory of him sat on his brother and mussing his hair up while John shouted at him quickly dissipated when John shoved him against the wall and started firing at the men coming their way. He hadn't even realized he'd left the lab.

A bullet struck one of the guards in the chest and he staggered forward until he collapsed onto the floor. He didn't move.

"I can't believe you did that!" Dave shouted, but John was already moving away.

His brother was going to kill everyone here.

"Hang on!" Dave shouted suddenly and before John could shout at him he was running back to the lab, set on one goal.

Dave ignored the bodies on the floor and reached for the object he had noticed but hadn't considered using. After all, John had instructed him to block the impulse to activate any more devices.

John arrived at the door, gun out in front of him. "What are you doing?"

Dave passed him the device and John didn't even look at it. His eyes focused only on him. "What is it?" he asked.

"I blinded the Doctor with this," he told John, feeling like an idiot. "Maybe we could……..use it."

He expected a rebuttal but John smiled. "You activate it, I'll shoot."

"We don't need to shoot. We can just use this."

The alarm was still going off, making hearing near impossible, but he heard John when he said. "If someone fires on me, I'm firing back."

Dave nodded. He wanted to argue that that wasn't necessary but he wasn't sure he could reason with this side of his brother.

He followed John through the halls. John told him to stay low and told him to watch their six. Dave figured it was a military term for watching their back.

Men kept piling out of hidden rooms and they were shooting at them without question. John kept on firing back.

The halls were filling with smoke. Everyone was shouting loudly. The alarm above was unrelenting and the sound of weapons discharging made Dave's head and teeth ache. It was chaos.

"John!"

"Just follow me and stay down."

He'd never felt so scared in his entire life or so dependent on his younger brother.

All of a sudden, John grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him around a corner. Bullets peppered the wall and pieces of plaster sprayed over their heads.

"Use the device!" John shouted as he ducked down, pulling Dave with him. "We've got five up ahead."

John started firing around the corner, fighting the recoil of a single bullet at a time.

Dave swallowed, steeled himself and then started to concentrate. The device started to hum, not that he could hear it over the staccato gun fire, but it wasn't glowing as much as it had the day before. He couldn't focus enough to get the damn thing to work.

"It's not working!" he told John.

Completely calm and frighteningly in his element, John switched grip on his handgun and simultaneously fired while reaching out to touch the device.

It immediately reacted to his contact and John didn't even have to look for it to start doing something.

"How long did it take to charge up before?"

Dave wiped away a bead of sweat on his forehead. "Only a minute."

John continued his assault of bullets, while they nudged it out into the hallway. It discharged a dazzlingly bright light. There were the sounds of weapons hitting the floor, men groaning in pain and then John was off and pulling Dave along for the ride.

John jumped over the bodies of five men and clipped one in the side of his head when he started to reach for his gun.

"Do you know where we're going?" Dave asked, ducking as low as he could again.

John didn't answer. It was as if he was immersed in this dangerous environment and Dave could see that the way he was unfazed by this was a bad thing. It meant that John had done this before. Something about his eyes told him that in different company he perhaps even enjoyed the rush.

The hallways were darker the further they went. Main lights had switched off and replaced by the dark hue of emergency lights instead.

Dave could still taste smoke and faintly smell it behind them. John had been responsible for this. All of this.

He followed John as he negotiated the halls, counting steps under his breath. They didn't meet anymore resistance and a quick check over his shoulder, revealed that they weren't being followed either.

They were running full pelt, John a blur in front of him, when suddenly a familiar silhouette appeared in front of them. John didn't have time to duck Mike's powerful swing. The impact sent him reeling to the ground. The gun dropped from his hand and John landed in a boneless heap.

The gun skittered towards Dave's feet and he crouched to pick it up, while Mike told him not to. Mike didn't appear to be armed. He simply stood there with his arms crossed as a barrier, assuming Dave wouldn't do anything stupid.

"Now you're the co-operative one," Mike told him in an amused voice. "So, I'd suggest you drop the weapon."

The gun in his hand felt heavy and unfamiliar. The handle was slick with sweat and hot to the touch.

He'd only ever held a weapon once. Their father had found him and John in the attic playing cops and robbers. Their father had never scolded them, just simply reclaimed the weapon from his hand and placed it back in it's box. They never spoke of it again. But John had been fascinated by the thing. He'd sneak back up there just to look at it while Dave had never been that interested in the first place. Even at a young age he knew the implications of such a deadly weapon.

"Mr. Sheppard. I have people on their way to take you and your brother back to a cell. Drop the gun."

He wasn't a child anymore and unlike the attic, this wasn't a game. Dave did the unthinkable and held the gun out in front of him. Just to see what it felt like. It felt good.

"Let us go," he told Mike.

Mike laughed humorlessly. "I'd like to see you drag your brother out of here. Outside this door it's all woodland. My men will hunt you down in seconds."

Dave considered his brothers lanky, unconscious form and sighed with defeat.

"You're not made for this," Mike gestured to the gun. "You're a businessman. Nothing else."

"No, I guess not." Dave dropped the weapon and it hit the floor with a loud thud.

"Now get on your knees, put your hands behind your head and wait."

Dave crouched slowly and remembering the device, he placed it on the floor and pushed it towards John's hands.

It immediately glowed and started to recharge.

Mike was chatting over the radio and giving their location.

John's finger twitched and Dave held his breath as the device dispersed that wonderful light. Mike grunted in surprised and cursed loudly. It was enough for John to finally stir.

"We need to get out of here." Dave told him. "Your words."

John pushed himself up to his elbows, reached for the discarded weapon and then with a little help from his brother got upright.

--

Running wasn't easy when you felt like every step was going to cause your brain to explode. John had to grit his teeth with every footfall just to help abate the throb and the overwhelming urge to throw up.

Dave ran beside him and it was like a surreal off-world mission as they entered the tree line. Except, Dave could easily keep up with him and he didn't need to be told twice to keep going.

They started to traverse a slippery slope and already John could hear the sounds of many footfalls and voices coming their way. They'd probably fan out to cover the most surface area. They needed to get to high ground.

"Do you know where we're going?" Dave asked in a breathy voice. "Because I don't know if you noticed but there are lots of them and only two of us."

John drove his leg down and pushed as hard as he could to climb the hill. "I noticed that."

Dave looked like he wanted to say more but John was tired of talking. He just wanted to concentrate on moving and staying upright. It was times like this that he missed the rest of his team. He desperately needed back up.

John faltered and Dave grabbed him by the arm. It jarred him a little too much and he ripped his hand away.

"You need to rest!" Dave snapped. "You're tripping over your own feet."

John stubbornly pushed ahead, feeling dizzy and sick and wanting nothing more than to lie down. But his brother didn't get it.

Giving up was the easiest thing to do. Giving up was resting. He didn't need that. He needed to use the adrenaline he had to keep going.

"John!"

"I'm not stopping until we're safe!"

"There's a valley down there…we could-"

John waved that suggestion away. "No, it's too exposed. We need to get higher up this hill. If we hide down there they'll spot us a mile off."

He slipped again and went to his knee but drove forward without acknowledging it. His brother couldn't.

"Sit down before you fall down"

"We don't have time!"

"If you collapse then what? Am I supposed to carry you up there?"

"No you make a travois and-" John licked his lips and started again. "I'm not going to collapse. I'm perfectly…"

"Don't you _dare_ say fine, John."

Dave had stopped abruptly, hands on hips as he panted.

"There's no where to hide around here. We're too exposed." John went to grab Dave and pull him forward.

"Don't," Dave's face flushed with anger and then he pushed John away from him.

John shoved him back.

And then somebody shot at them and before John could react, his brother went to his knees, grabbing his arm.

"What happened?"

"You were shot," John informed him.

He guided Dave to sit behind a large tree and checked the wound. "It's just a graze, but keep applying pressure."

Dave stared into the distance, shocked.

"Stay here!"

John moved quickly and quietly under the cover of some dense bush and could see one of Mike's men creeping up the hill. He'd been distracted by a noise off to his left. A bird landing in a tree. When he looked back, the man had gone.

"Shit."

He scanned the surroundings, hoping the guard hadn't got the jump on his brother, when a twig snapped to his six and then somebody jumped him from behind and drove him into the mud.

--

Dave waited, clutching his injured arm and cursing under his breath. He'd been shot!

After a while he became aware that John hadn't returned. He had expected to hear shots fired but instead all he could hear was muffled groans and the sounds of people fighting.

He risked a look and saw John pinned to the ground. Instinct took over and Dave reached for the nearest weapon that he could find, that turned out to be a heavy branch and headed over to help.

Grimacing as he raised his arm, he hefted the branch into the air and battered the man on the back of the head. He slumped forward and John rolled the man off him.

"Thanks."

"Did I kill him?"

After a quick pulse check, John shook his head. "He's just knocked out. We should get out of here, might be more heading our way."

--


	6. Chapter 6

They'd walked for hours through the forest, neither speaking, both listening to see if they were being followed. By nightfall, they hadn't encountered anymore of Mike's guards so they found a cave and decided to wait the night out in there.

Dave had managed to clean his arm up a little and John was right. The bullet had grazed the skin and hadn't really done any harm. He'd have a scar when it healed. It was a memento of the last few days that he didn't really want.

John was leaning against the cave wall and shivering, hands tucked up under his armpits and knees pulled up to his chest.

"Why don't we light a fire?" Dave suggested, already moving to go gather wood.

John didn't move with him. "The smoke will attract too much attention."

"Then we'll dampen it down. You do remember the boy scouts right?"

"I remember I didn't go. I don't want to take that chance."

"But you're freezing."

"It's cold." John smiled and said. "But I'm not going to turn into a Popsicle over night."

Dave bridged the distance that they had been keeping from one another and sat beside him. He leaned his weight into John in an effort to give him some warmth.

He watched John for a while, trying to assess his state. The gauze that had since fallen off exposed a nasty wound on his head that was still seeping blood. There were a few cuts on his cheek where they'd been hacking through the dense undergrowth, but other than that he looked relatively human. He was more concerned about the concussion. John looked utterly exhausted and he wasn't convinced that he'd actually slept the last few nights.

"I could take watch you know. You could get some sleep."

John hunched his shoulders and yawned, despite saying. "Nah s'okay."

"_Come_ on. I'll just sit here and you can rest."

"I won't sleep. Never do when I'm off-wor-" John cut himself off abruptly. "I won't sleep. I might as well stay awake."

"Well that's both of us up then. All night. For no good reason."

John turned to him and indicated to the gun. "You can sleep."

Guns made him nervous. He hated that his brother now seemed to clutch one like it was a security blanket, or worse, was now a part of him.

"Why won't you ever let me protect you?"

In the small cave, John's words echoed. "What?"

"I'm supposed to be your older brother here. I should be looking after you."

"I thought that's what you've been doing."

"No, that's what you _want_ me to believe."

John leaned his head back and sighed.

"Do you remember what happened when I was twelve and you were eight?"

John looked confused. Dave nudged him with his elbow.

"Bobby Aldridge. Remember him?"

"Didn't I hit him or something?"

"Yes, you did John."

"Oh………Why was that again?"

Dave could remember the day vividly. "He saw me holding his sisters hand and he didn't like it so he pushed me into Fenrow Lake."

"It was really more of a pond……" John argued.

"And you were there and you were so angry that you marched up to him and punched him in the jaw."

John narrowed his eyes. "I _do_ remember that."

"Even _then_ you were trying to protect me. You've never given me the chance to look after you."

"I was eight."

"I'd just have liked the chance."

Silence filled the cave like the darkness had.

"John, another reason I want you to sleep is that you're scaring the shit out of me."

John twisted toward him. "What?"

"Not only are you exhausted but refuse to rest, I can't get the image of you running around killing people out of me head. You sleeping kills two birds with one stone, _excuse_ the phrase. You get much needed rest and I get to sit here alone and organize my thoughts."

John didn't seem offended, he merely raised an eyebrow. "So _you_ want me to sleep?"

"Yes."

John leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "_Fine_."

Dave studied the tight lines in John's face and the rapid breathing and then sighed. "You're pretending aren't you?"

The corner of John's mouth curved into a smile.

"Asshole."

"Flopsy."

"Mop top."

--

Despite the situation, Dave managed to fall asleep. He woke with a start, the muscles in his neck contracting painfully when he lifted his head. John wasn't pressed against him as he had been last night. In fact, he was gone.

Dave shuffled to the entrance of the cave where the sunlight was streaming in.

"You're awake?"

John was sitting on a tree stump, munching berries with his gun balanced precariously on his knee.

"Did you sleep at _all_ last night?" Dave asked.

"A little." John held out his hand. "Breakfast?"

Dave shook his head. Who knew where John had picked those from?

John pushed himself up. "Your loss."

"How long have you been up?"

"A few hours. Took a walk along the ridge. Looks like there's a road we can follow."

Dave didn't believe for one second that John had slept. Everything about his stance was indicative of a man running on empty and the dark circles under his eyes was further confirmation. If he hadn't been relying on John to get them to safety then he would have called him on it.

"How's your arm?"

Dave regarded the blood soaked material of his shirt. "Hurts like a bitch. How's the head?"

"The same."

The walk along the ridge was much further than Dave had anticipated. After walking for an hour, John announced that they were at the half way point. That meant that John had been awake for more than a 'few' hours before Dave had awoken if he'd time to walk this far.

Dave ripped a handful of leaves off a tree branch as he passed and tore them up. "So, you think we've lost them?"

"I think they're smarter than that."

"Maybe they gave up?" Dave suggested hopefully.

"These guys…..they don't give up."

From that statement, Dave realized that John already knew who these men were. He wanted to ask but he was beginning to see a pattern to John's answers. They were as infuriatingly vague and non-committal as he was.

"What would you do?"

John's step faltered. "What?"

"Well, you're supposed to be in command now."

"Yeah….I guess."

"I was just wondering what you'd do if the situation was reversed."

John chewed his lip for a second before answering. "I'd get my men to position themselves ahead of the escape party and then move inwards, try and cut them off before they could get any further or hope it would drive them back towards the facility they escaped."

"You think they're doing that?"

John shrugged.

--

Two hours passed. They descended the ridge, cut through trees and a large bramble patch and the clearing before them presented a tarmaced road. Dave was worn out and wondering how much longer his brother could keep this up. He still hadn't recovered fully and yet he was pushing them harder, refusing to stop for breaks, insistent that they had to keep moving.

Dave had noticed the faltering steps and steady slump of John's shoulders. If he was finding this difficult he didn't own up.

They started walking along the roadside, either side flanked by fields and beyond that the trees and mountains. It reminded Dave why he had opted to stay in Virginia. It was stunning. He couldn't imagine anyone wanting to leave.

For a while, the only sound that could be heard was their footfalls crushing the grass.

"We should stop for a break."

John was seemingly lost in thought and didn't acknowledge his suggestion.

"John?"

His brother turned to him. "You tired?"

"Aren't you?"

"I'm good."

"Sure you are." Dave tried a different tact. "Okay, I am tired."

Without waiting for a reply, he started towards the field and sat down in the long grass. John waited a beat and then followed, but he didn't sit down.

"Just for a minute, okay?"

"John, you can sit down as well. Might do you some good."

John looked hesitant, but when Dave patted the ground, he all but collapsed next to him.

"I think we got away with it," Dave told him.

John groaned. "You _had_ to say it."

"What?"

"Just a rule my team have," John turned to him and smiled. "Bad things happen when you say things like that."

Dave picked at a daisy and twirled it between his fingers. "Your team?"

"Yeah….my team." John repeated with an air of fondness.

"Are they the ones you thought would rescue us?"

The look in John's eyes switched to seriousness. "They _would_ have."

Dave didn't push him any further. "I'm sure they were on their way."

John was massaging the bridge of his nose and grimacing when he looked up.

"You still have a headache?"

John dropped his hand and the mask of neutrality resurfaced. "Nothing a few Tyelnol wouldn't fix. You rested up? We should get going."

"In a minute."

John got to his feet, disguising any discomfort well. "We're sitting ducks here."

"You just can't switch off can you?"

"Can't afford to."

"What? _Ever_?"

"Like I said. Bad things happen."

Dave went to reply but the haunted look in John's eyes stopped him. He had to wonder what 'bad things' had happened over the years.

"John…I…"

John was already walking towards the road and gesturing for him to follow.

Dave did so, but all the time he couldn't help but obsess on the ways that John had changed since joining the military.

John was silent a lot of the time. Dave didn't know if it was just habit or training but it was a little bit disturbing because the John that he knew had never been like this. They'd always managed to chat about everything and nothing. They'd never gone too deep, just brushed the surface, but the banter had always been there.

Dave figured that the worst aspect of his brother's transformation was the way that he treated him as if he were another soldier. Escaping from that facility had demonstrated John's inability to identify him as a civilian. He'd barked orders and expected him to comply. He was asking him to push on through his pain and stay alert when they'd clearly escaped. This was the real world. It wasn't a war zone.

The car that passed took Dave by surprise. The dust had barely settled and it was speeding into the distance.

"We should flag down a car. Get a ride to the next town."

"We'll walk," John told him. "Don't want to involve anymore people than we have to."

"The next town could be miles away!"

"Then we'll walk miles."

"We could get there much quicker if we had a little help."

"You really think anyone's going to pick us up looking like this?"

"Maybe we'll get the sympathy vote."

Dave could hear the distant gunning of an engine. He turned and could see the black blip coming toward them, shimmering in the heat. He stepped out to the side of the road and hooked his finger out.

"You can walk until you keel over but I've had enough."

If John was angry, he didn't show it. He was too busy removing his handgun and checking the clip.

"Move away from the road!" John told him in an eerily calm voice. It was the voice of their father when he was barely restraining his anger.

The car was getting nearer; its shape emerging through the glare.

"Dave, step away from the road!"

"I'm tired John. You might be able to carry on regardless but I'm hungry and my arm throbs, so excuse me if I just accept help like an adult."

"What?"

"Admit it. You're a control freak. That's why you won't accept help in any shape or form. Especially not mine and especially not dad's!"

"This isn't the time to bring up……" John looked over his shoulder and at the car that was advancing. "This has nothing to do with dad or you or me for that matter. It has to do with the fact that you're about to potentially flag down the enemy!"

"The enemy? Would you listen to yourself?"

Dave barely had time to react when John grabbed him by the wrist and wrenched him away.

"What are you doing? They could help us!"

"Keep moving!" John shouted, pushing him ahead.

Dave risked a look over his shoulder, only to see the car skid onto the side of the road and eject three men.

Crap.


	7. Chapter 7

"Keep-"

John's words were cut off by the sound of shots firing. Dave got the hint and double timed it, heading for the tree line as John had suggested earlier. He understood what John meant about them being too exposed. There was nowhere to hide out here and he felt vulnerable.

The men were following and they hadn't been walking for hours on end so they were catching up fast.

"Go, go, go!" John shouted.

"We can't outrun them!"

"Just get to the trees!" And then John stopped running, got onto one knee and started firing at the men that were coming towards them.

Dave saw something strike the mud in front of him and realized it was a bullet.

Time seemed to slow in that instant and Dave felt as if he was running through sand. Every step taking more effort than the last.

Another glance and John had shot one of the men. That left two more on their six. _Six_? Where had that come from?

He stopped in the tree line and waited for John. He'd dispatched of another man and was now running, full pelt, towards him. When John reached him he used his forward momentum to pull Dave along.

"Keep going, I'll take care of this last guy."

Dave shook his head. "No, we can't split up."

John was breathing raggedly and sweating from exertion. "We won't……" he told him. "I'll catch up with you."

"Let me help!"

"Dave, I'm not asking I'm-"

"Ordering?" Dave was vibrating with anxious energy.

"Yes. I'm ordering."

"Give me a gun. I know you have another one."

John rubbed at his head and for a minute, his gaze vacant. Dave had to give his shoulder a shove as he watched their captor advance.

"John!"

John fired at the man advancing, no intention of handing him a weapon. When Dave glowered at him he said, "I had him."

"You're struggling……just give me-"

"No, Dave just-" but then John's word's petered out because he was leaning forward and pressing a hand into his head.

"What's wrong?"

John pushed his hand away and returned to his post. "Nothing."

But it wasn't _nothing_ because he was obviously struggling.

"John?" Dave snapped his fingers in front of his eyes. "John?"

"Just…..dizzy."

"Let me help!"

Dave had heard the old cliché about doing everything you could to survive. At that moment in time it had never seemed so appropriate. He forcibly removed the gun from John's hand, peered out behind the tree and squeezed off a shot. The recoil hurt his wrist and the sound made his ears ring.

"What are you-" John reclaimed his weapon, pushed Dave down as a bullet glanced off their tree and then shot their pursuer in the leg. He dropped to the grass, screaming and writhing in agony.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Dave asked. "I had him!"

Dave stood up and noticed that John didn't move. He reached out a hand and John reluctantly took it. He swayed and braced himself on a tree. "You keep…….moving," he said.

"_We_ have to keep moving, remember?" Dave tugged his brother by the elbow and John followed him, his movements slow and sloppy. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"You could have killed him." There was no fire in the retort. Instead, John sounded resigned.

"I _thought_ that was the point."

"There's a difference between saying and actually doing, Dave."

Dave reached out for his brother's arm and guided up away from a hidden ditch. The fact that John didn't push him away was a sign he wasn't doing so well. "You don't think I could have done it?"

"Pulling the trigger is easy. Living with it isn't."

Dave angrily swiped at a tree branch in his path. John's words sank in quickly.

"Is that why you've changed?"

John's shoulders bunched up. "You'd never forgive yourself. Or me."

The further they walked, the worse John's condition seemed to get. He'd stubbornly tried to push ahead, but as time wore on Dave was stopping and waiting for John to catch up.

John was relentless in his desire to prove that he was okay. When he finally crumpled to his knees and didn't get up, Dave was quick to steady him.

"You ready to admit you're dead tired yet?"

John sighed and dropped his head. "Damn headaches making it impossible to think straight."

"Can you walk?"

John went to stand up. "Of course I can walk." He promptly sagged back to his knees. "Just give me a minute."

"You know we have to keep moving, John."

"When did you ever listen to me?" John looked up at him, eyes hooded, lips set into a tight line.

"I don't have to. I'm the older brother remember?"

"Yeah, right. I forgot."

"Are you this stubborn with your team?"

"No…..I…." he paused. "I don't think so. I wasn't being stubborn, Dave."

"Yeah right. You ready?"

"I can walk."

"Sure you can." Dave pulled his brother's arm around his shoulder and hoisted him into a standing position.

With John's weight pressed into his side, he started forward, refusing to relinquish his grip.

They moved onward at a snails pace. Negotiating the uneven ground was difficult and a few times John's unsteadiness nearly toppled them both.

"How much farther do you think?" Dave asked.

John didn't answer. He was too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other.

"You think dad's looking down on us and laughing his ass off?"

John stiffened and gave him a look that was bordering on guilt. "I think he'd be pissed that I got you into yet more trouble."

"Yeah." And Dave looked up through the tree canopy and smiled. "Probably."

"I don't know how he ever got it into his head that I was the troublemaker. As I recall, you were the one that took me to a bar when I was seventeen and-"

Dave knew exactly what he was going to say and stalled him before he could continue. "Now, hang on. That wasn't my fault."

"I was throwing up for three days straight."

"Like you hadn't already snuck into bars with your buddies."

"Whatever. I still think that was technically your fault."

"Fine." Dave guided them over a shallow stream. "Maybe that was my fault."

John leaned into him and Dave re-set their balance. When he spared a glance at his brother, he was closing his eyes.

"John?"

"Huh?"

"You can't sleep while you're walking."

"Wasn't sleeping."

"Just keep your eyes open."

John sighed, blinked a few times and nodded. "I'm with you."

"So," Dave had to keep his brother talking. He decided to broach a topic that had seemed off-limits. "You know dad was proud of you, right?"

John made a half chuckle, half groaning noise.

"He was. He regretted how you left things between you. I think, if he'd had more time, he would have finally told you that."

"I don't want to talk about it, Dave."

"Why not?"

"Because-"

"I just thought you might want to know that."

"Like I said, I don't want to talk about it."

Dave nodded and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

"Hang on." John told him. "Wait."

For a fleeting moment, Dave thought that his brother might open up to him.

John swallowed thickly and clamped his eyes shut. "Here." He passed Dave his gun. "Pull the clip back to load it and unlatch the safety before you fire."

Dave stared at him, wondering what had changed his mind.

"No sense in me having the only gun if I'm in no position to fire it."

With his free hand, Dave would be able to fend off any captors hiding in the trees. Though he still suspected John had another gun, he smiled and said, "I won't let you down."

--

It was dusk by the time they saw the light up ahead and they were both utterly shattered, shuffling along the roadside wordlessly. John had used him as a crutch for the whole walk. It was only when they arrived at the diner doors, did John finally take his own weight, pat his brother on his shoulder and reclaim his gun.

The diner wasn't anything special. The windows were large and covered by blinds and there were rows of booths inside. The kind that you could hide in easily. While Dave slipped into one and ordered two black coffees, John headed off to use the payphone.

John returned a few minutes later, slumping into his seat and resting his elbows on the table. "Called it in."

"How long?"

"They should be here in an hour or so."

"So we just wait?" Dave asked, sinking back.

Two coffees were placed in front of them. The bitter smell reminded him of Doctor Henning and he shuddered involuntarily. This had been the first time since their escape that he'd had time to dwell on it.

When he looked up, John was staring at him, hands clasped under his chin.

"What?"

"Just…..sorry I guess. For all of this."

John closed his eyes and didn't open them for a long time. Dave left him, not wanting to wake him, knowing just how exhausted John was, and how much he needed the down time.

Dave drank his coffee and watched as people came and went. He noticed the stares and realised that they looked a state; caked in mud, filthy dirty and covered in blood. The waitress arched an eyebrow at John when she came over to refill his mug.

"This isn't a shelter you know," she remarked with little sympathy and then left them to it.

Dave could have elaborated. He could have told the waitress that they had escaped from a large compound, that they had been hunted for hours and explained that his brother needed this. Instead, he didn't say a thing.

Twenty minutes later and John jerked awake, knee hitting the table in the process. He glanced around the diner. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asked, rubbing his face.

"Thought you could use the sleep," Dave remarked.

John took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders. "How long was I out?"

"You were asleep for an hour."

"An hour?" John rubbed his neck.

"Not my fault you sleep like the dead-" Dave cut himself off; visions of the facility and the bodies that they had left behind.

John yawned and ruffled his hair.

"I thought soldiers were supposed to sleep lightly?"

John prodded Dave's mug of coffee. "You realise we have no money."

Dave nodded.

"Guess we'll have to charm our way out of the bill."

"Or we could just daze them with this." Dave placed the Ancient blinding device on the table top and spun it lazily.

John reached over and stopped its rotation. "Maybe, I should keep hold of this." John smiled a little and then checked his watch. "My team should be here soon."

--

An hour later and John was tired of waiting. They'd been sat in companionable silence for a while, watching as people slowly left the small diner and the waitress started clearing the tables, dropping none too subtle hints that they were going to close soon.

"Where are you going?" Dave asked when John pushed himself out of his seat.

"To get some air."

"You want me to come?"

"And walk out on the bill?" John waved a hand. "Nah, I'll be right back."

Outside the diner there were few cars parked up and dusk had turned into full blown darkness. John arched his back and rubbed at his head, still unable to rid himself of his lingering headache.

John had only been standing there a few minutes when he became aware of a man standing off to his left, hidden by the shadows. John smiled in his direction and walked out towards the road, still keeping the diner within view, to stare up the road and will his back up to arrive.

When they didn't appear, he started back towards the diner, noting that the man had crept out of the shadows and was watching him without trying to make it obvious. There was a brief moment when they met eyes and John's heart started to race.

He bought the gun up the same time the man did and suddenly they were locked in a deadly stand off.

"Colonel Sheppard," the man said, unlatching the safety on his weapon just as John did.

"Why don't we both put our weapons away," John suggested as he took a few steps forward. "You could always join us for coffee?"

"Stay where you are," the man ordered, gesturing with his gun for John to stay still.

"Of course, you'll have to foot the bill. We forgot our wallets."

"Stop moving."

"My back-up will be here any second."

"Mine will be here quicker," and the man reached up to a hidden earpiece.

John listened to the one-sided conversation while weighing up his chances of escaping and getting inside in time.

"If you let us go, maybe this won't end badly." John informed him.

The man smiled and edged out of the shadows, glancing towards the diner. "I'm just the paid help. I don't make the decisions."

John refused to lower his weapon. "Clearly."

What seemed like a second later a black car was screeching into the parking lot and John briefly thought that it might be McKay and Ronon. When the door opened and Mike was sat there, John turned his gun on him instead.

"Colonel. I'd suggest getting in this car quietly."

"You should know by now that I don't do quiet."

All it would take was one person to leave the diner and see them. It didn't happen.

"Your brother can go free, if you come with us."

"I don't think so."

Hands were grabbing him. Someone punched him in his wounded thigh and he sank to the tarmac in one ungraceful movement. They were reaching for his weapon. John twisted, managed to fire off three shots before his gun was knocked from his hand. Too exhausted to fight, he was pushed into the car.

--

Dave heard the shots fired and ran out of the diner as their waitress shouted something about the bill. He witnessed the scuffle, the moment John was battered to the ground and then manhandled into a familiar black van. He tried to run after them, willing his legs and his frantic breathing to co-operate.

He was left panting on the side of the road as the car sped off into the distance.

"Hey Mister! Aren't you forgetting something?" The waitress had run out after him.

"You need to call the police!" he told her breathlessly. "They took my-"

The car that pulled up beside him looked identical to the last and for one chilling moment, Dave thought he'd been recaptured. But as the door slid open, Dave recognised the man in the front as Ronon. He remembered meeting him at the wake. Beside him was a man dressed in military fatigues with short cropped hair and in the back was a short, round man, who was grabbing him by the arm and hauling him into the seat.

"This is Sheppard's brother? They look nothing alike."

Dave's indignation at that remark from the shorter one was overridden by all consuming panic for his brother's welfare.

"Where's Sheppard!" Ronon asked. In his eyes, he saw the same desperation that he felt.

"They headed that way!" Dave gestured wildly.

--

John was back where he had started; pressed between two burly men and feeling distinctly nauseous.

This time he leaned into one of the men, too drained to try anything smart.

"Where we heading?" he asked.

"We're driving to a private airfield. After you destroyed my lab I'm afraid we have to relocate." Mike told him from the front seat.

John rubbed at his face, feeling aged and worn by the last few days. "Sorry about that."

"I'm sure you are."

"No really," John leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Sorry, you got out alive."

"Sir." The whispered voice got his attention.

John watched as Mike leaned in to hear the driver. "What is it?"

"I think we're being followed."

Followed? John glanced over his shoulder and watched as the black SUV behind them sped up to tail them. It was getting closer every second. That couldn't be coincidence. One of the burly men slapped him on the shoulder and said, "Eyes to the front."

If his team were trying to catch up to him then he had to think of something to slow these guys down.

Something bulky in his pocket had him remembering the ancient device that Dave had returned to him earlier in the diner. He couldn't quite reach it. His legs were trapped together and the device was digging into burly guy's thigh.

"I have something of yours," John tried to sound innocent.

"Really?" Mike didn't turn to him.

"Yeah, if these guys would just let me reach my pocket-"

One of the men pressed his hands against his sides while the other dug his meaty hand into his pocket and removed the device. He turned it over in his hands and held it up to show Mike.

He was only ever going to have one chance and he needed to take it so John grit his teeth and braced himself as he head butted one guy and then snatched the ancient device out of the other's hand. John was slugged in his already aching head but he refused to drop the device.

Mike laughed and closed his eyes. "Not this time Sheppard."

John was being pounded in the back, splayed uncomfortably in the back seat and fighting to keep a hold of the ancient technology. He activated the device with an effortless thought and smiled. "Not you I'm aiming it at."

"Cover your eyes!" Mike demanded.

Everyone did, except the one person who couldn't. The driver. The device discharged, sending out a beam of light so blinding that even John was blinking furiously against the white spots.

As soon as the light had faded, John slipped back into his seat before the shit hit the fan.

--

McKay watched as the car emitted a strange light.

Cameron Mitchell swerved the car violently. "What the Hell!" He hit the brakes and they went into a controlled stop.

The other car had hit an embankment and was starting to roll over.

"Sheppard!" McKay leaned forward and actually felt his stomach somersault along with the car.

After three revolutions the vehicle was lying upside down in a field, smoke rising from the engine.

Ronon was the first one out, pulling out his blaster and crossing the distance to get to Sheppard. David Sheppard was not far behind and ploughing after him.

McKay was the last one out, edging slowly towards the wreckage.


	8. Chapter 8

--

John opened his eyes and pressed a hand against his stomach where the belt he'd miraculously buckled, before they started to roll, had cut into him.

Breathing hurt, his head hurt…._everything_ just plain hurt and there were disjointed voices all around him.

He was upside down. The blood was rushing to his head and stars danced in his vision. He didn't release his belt. He simply dangled there; too battered and bruised to even contemplate moving. Setting that device off in a moving vehicle had to go down as one of the most stupid things he'd ever done. Maybe his brother had a point. He was reckless.

Something wet slid down his cheek and dripped off his chin. _Blood_. Was that a new injury or the old one? He couldn't tell.

The car was creaking. John could hear glass plinking to the ground and the groan of the suspension as somebody moved. There was something else too. The smell of gasoline was overwhelming.

"_Just leave him….let's get out of here."_

John blinked dizzily and focused on the front seat. The driver was trapped under the steering wheel, unmoving, probably dead.

One of the burly men was lying in the foot well next to him, contorted in a horrible angle. Mike and the other guard were trying to free themselves from the wreck.

"_Sheppard!"_ He heard somebody shout his name, but when he turned his head, all he could see was an expanse of flattened grass and a trail of car parts.

"I'm _okay_……" he told the voice he half recognised, but couldn't place. "I'm here….."

John blinked and watched the upside down image of Mike, cutting his seatbelt with one of the guard's knives. He coldly met John's eyes.

"_What about him?"_

Their voices sounded so far away. John struggled to stay awake.

"_Leave him."_

"_But the Colonel-"_

"_The Colonel can stay and burn…..."_

John was beginning to feel light-headed as he dangled. Where he'd been holding onto the seatbelt in a bid to stop it cutting into him, John finally allowed his arms to fall to the floor. He managed to scrape his hands on the glass but he barely felt it.

He was drifting in and out of consciousness, listening to the drip, drip as something hit the floor, when Mike appeared beside him.

"Where's the device Colonel?" he asked, throwing a quick look out of the window. There was a cut running down the side of his face and his teeth were coated with blood. "Colonel?"

"I don't-"

Mike gripped John by the shoulder and squeezed tightly, cutting his words off.

"Where is it?"

"No idea."

John started to mentally check out again and watched as Mike scrabbled around the crushed compartment to find the device.

"Sir, we need to get out of here." The burly guard told Mike.

"I need to find it."

"They're coming, sir. We have to go."

"He destroyed everything else…..this is the last piece!"

"Sir!"

"Damn…." Mike muttered before climbing back into the front.

They were leaving. John allowed himself to drift away.

"We need to run!"

There were the voices again, indistinct and all muddling together.

"_You got a match!"_

John couldn't tell if he'd heard right. He tried to get his brain to co-operate.

"Shit."

The Gasoline!

John realised what they were intending to do and forced clarity into his addled mind. He tried to unclasp his belt. His fingers felt fat and uncoordinated but after a few attempts he felt the strap give and he landed head first. His back crashed onto the floor and he groaned.

John reached blindly towards the other dead guard's holster and found a weapon snugly inside.

With his eyes closed against nausea, John didn't have to look at the gun to know how to unlatch the safety. It was borne instinct by now. He lifted his head and aimed through the gap in the seats at Mike and his friend.

"I told you…..my friends…would find me." His gun hand was shaking and he was having a hard time staying alert.

"You're barely conscious Colonel," Mike told him. "And you're not looking too well."

"Feel….fine."

"You're bleeding."

John risked a look down and could see his shirt was streaked with blood. His aim lowered.

"I feel fine."

The weapon clattered ineffectually to the floor and he followed. He just couldn't seem to find the energy to move.

He was fading into unconsciousness when movement snapped him back into reality.

The guard was trying to escape through the passenger window and getting hauled out by Ronon. He could hear the sounds of a scuffle and then the guard was making a horrible keening noise.

And Mike. John watched him stagger away from the car.

A minute later and he was falling to the ground. He was pretty sure he saw his brother punch him square in the face as he tried to slither away.

"Sheppard!"

He turned slowly and aimed the gun through the window.

"Jesus, Sheppard!"

John let the pistol fall and dropped his head back. "Sorry."

"You nearly shot me!"

"I said…….sorry."

"You okay?"

"Had….better days McKay," John managed to grit out.

Ronon was on his knees and peering through a gap in the twisted metal. "Give me your hand. We need to move you."

"Wasn't planning on moving anytime soon." John breathed in and felt a distant pain in his side. "I'm pretty much done with the whole moving…upright….thing."

The car made more ominous creaking sounds. The engine made a horrible ticking noise.

"John!" Dave was there too, massaging his fist. "Are you insane?"

He heard Rodney making a snorting noise and then say, "I'm pretty sure he is insane. Being related, you might want to get that checked out."

"Had no other choice."

"John, you had lots of choices that didn't involve……" Dave cut himself off. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Sheppard, buddy. Hand."

"Ronon, I'm-" John couldn't miss the unmistakeable look that Rodney and Ronon shared and he sighed, "What is it?"

He was lying in glass. It was piercing the skin in his arm and digging into his back. He was utterly uncomfortable and his head hurt like a bitch, but he didn't want to move.

But then that smell.

"Come on Sheppard!" Cameron Mitchell was appearing now. "Help us out will you. Can't quite reach through this gap."

"Mitchell?"

"Yeah….surprised?"

"I thought I was in Virginia?"

"You are. Come on."

And the heat.

John allowed his eyes to drift closed for a second.

"John, get your scrawny ass out of that car now!"

Somebody grabbed him under the armpits and started dragging him out of the upturned car and onto the grass. He'd expected to look up and find Ronon there, but instead it was Dave. He gripped him by the arm, pulled him up and dragged him like deadweight.

John couldn't hold back the groan of pain as they moved.

"Come on John. Hurry."

John tried to keep his head up but he just couldn't seem to do it. "I'm going as fast as I can."

John glanced over his shoulder to see Rodney and Ronon following. Mitchell was aiming his gun at Mike and ordering him away from the car.

John staggered and when he fell, he didn't get up again.

"John…_move_!" Dave told him.

"Tired…." John argued, head fuzzy.

"I thought John Sheppard didn't get tired? You're supposed to be the stubborn one."

"Sheppard!" That was Rodney and he sounded miles away. "Get up!"

"Shit!" he heard Dave say. "Have you seen this?"

John didn't know what he was referring to. He couldn't summon the energy to ask. His body felt like it was made of lead. He just wanted to sleep now his team was with him. They could get him through the gate and…..no…..not the gate. He was home. Earth. He was on earth and-

"Sheppard!" Ronon hauled him up and unceremoniously placed him over his shoulder. It was a position he'd been in before and it was never a good sign. He was being jostled around and every step forced Ronon's shoulder into his stomach and reignited the pain.

It made him more aware and he managed to raise his head.

John looked back at the car, the tangled wreckage, upside down and………….

"The car's on fire!" John told them.

"We know!" All three of them chorused back.

Cameron Mitchell was screaming for everyone to fall back and a quick glimpse showed Mike on his hands and knees, crawling back into the wreck for an ancient device that had never been his in the first place.

"Get him away from that car!" Someone shouted.

The flames were beginning to skirt around the base of the car, igniting the dried grass. Suddenly, the air was filled with a solitary scream as the car became aglow in an orange blaze.

John allowed his eyes to close.

--

"_He's dead!"_

"Not dead……" John told the voice. "Still here."

When he opened them again he was lying in the grass, looking at the jet black sky and smelling fire and gas in the air.

He could hear sirens approaching and he couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu.

His brother was sitting beside him, a steadying hand on his shoulder. "You doing okay?"

"I can smell burning….." John reached up to feel his head. It was pounding. A burnt smell. Wasn't that a sign of a stroke?

"Mike," Dave explained. "He was in the car when it went up."

John went to push himself up onto his elbows and a hand prevented him from moving. He doubted he'd be able to get that far anyway.

"Probably deserved it," he slurred out.

"No-one deserves that," Dave admonished and John felt guilty because his brother looked traumatised. He kept forgetting that his brother wasn't used to this. He wasn't part of his world. A world where death and explosions and being shot at were completely normal, if not expected.

"Everyone okay?"

Rodney appeared above him. "Would you not worry about us for once?"

"I don't think he can help it," Dave said.

Ronon was obviously admiring the charred remains of the car because he said, "You missed the best part."

John nodded, feeling detached and weird. "What took you guys so long?"

Rodney appeared again. "Oh we didn't bother looking. There was an episode of the A-Team on that looked-" he sighed. "We looked everywhere you idiot! If you hadn't given yourself up in the first place then maybe-"

"What?" Dave looked between the two of them.

John grimaced.

"You didn't tell him?" Rodney looked disgusted. "He gave himself up! Voluntarily got captured."

Dave looked dumbfounded. He sat back and stared out towards the wreck. "I can't believe you did that."

John couldn't answer. He was too distracted now by the pain that was making itself known throughout his body. His side hurt too much and when he went to investigate the area, his brother tugged his hand away.

"Am I bleeding?"

"You're fine."

"My line….remember?"

"I can't believe you……" Dave rubbed his face. "Insane. Seriously insane."

"But he's our kind of insane," Ronon noted, clapping Dave on the shoulder as he walked passed. "Ambulance is here."

The EMT's arrived and the look in their eyes told him that he wasn't looking too healthy. They bustled around him, attaching leads and injecting him with various clear liquids. His shirt was cut open. His pant leg was ripped. There was too much happening for him to take it in.

"You'll be okay," Dave told him, clasping his hand. "I'll look after you."

John nodded with the last reserves of strength that he had.

--

John walked through the field, leaning down every now and then to pick up a handful of grass. Each time, he sucked in a deep breath at the niggling ache in his side.

"You okay, John?"

John turned to look over his shoulder and smiled tightly. Who knew his brother would be such a mother hen?

"I'm fine."

He continued to walk. He never thought he'd be back at his dad's ranch quite so soon.

Dave fell into step behind him and sighed heavily.

"It's not my fault."

"John, if that horse has escaped….I _swear_ to god-"

John shot his brother an aggrieved look, the one he usually reserved for Rodney and shoved him in the shoulder playfully. "How was I to know that it was a thoroughbred? You asked me to get involved so I got involved-"

Dave reached up to rub at his arm. It had been a week and half since their…._adventure_…..but it was still a reminder of how much he'd nearly lost.

"And let it escape!"

"It just wanted to have a run around."

They stopped in the middle of the field and both put their hands on their hips.

"If we don't find it before this evening…."

"We'll find it."

"Mark."

John asked, "Who?"

"The _horse_ is called Mark."

"Mark the horse? They named a horse -" and then to Dave's look, John amended. "_Fine_ we'll find Mark." John pointed across the field to where a chestnut coloured horse was eating some grass oblivious to the fact that they had been searching for him for one and a half hours. "See, there he is. No harm. No foul."

"Great….help me get him back will you."

"Injured man, remember?" John trudged after his brother. He wasn't fully recovered and he was supposed to be in bed resting but this was the best he'd felt in weeks.

Dave had been speaking and he'd hardly noticed. "What?"

"I said are you sticking around?"

"Nah, gotta head back."

Dave took the horse by the reigns and tugged it away from its food and they started heading back towards the farm.

"That's a shame. Could've used some help around here."

"I'd just get in the way. Plus, bad things generally happen when I'm around."

"Yeah, that's true." Dave gestured to his arm. "You're going to visit soon though right?"

John didn't like to lie but he did anyway. "Sure."

When they arrived back at the stables the sun was beginning to dip and John had a gate to catch.

"So what time do you have to leave?" Dave asked, patting the horse's strong neck.

"Soon." John leaned against the stable and sighed weairly, "About that. I guess I should-"

"You know…..we got a new horse in yesterday." Dave hooked his finger over to a white horse chewing enthusiastically on hay. "Strong colt, good breed….._stubborn_. "

"I'm trying to tell you something here."

"Called it John."

"You're kidding me?"

"You have a lot in common." Mark the horse, brayed loudly and kicked out his heels and it took both men to control him.

"I'm nothing like a horse Dave. Not unless the comparison you were drawing was that I'm a stud."

Dave raised his eyebrows at that remark and just waved John's comment away." Did you know-"

"You're starting to sound like dad."

"Dad was wise…._anyway_…did you knowwhen horses lie down to sleep, others in the herd remain standing in order to keep watch because its instincts are to keep a constant eye out for danger."

"What are you saying?"

"I may not be doing a good job of saying it." Dave tugged the horse's reigns and started again. "I'm saying I get it. I get what you do and why you do it."

"Because I'm a horse."

"Well that wasn't the main……." Dave sighed and scrubbed at his face. "You don't have to explain what it is that you do. I know it's important. I know it's dangerous and……lets just leave at that okay?"

John reached up and massaged the back of his neck. "For the record. I was going to tell you."

"I know. But even knowing half the truth nearly got me killed."

There was a moment where John thought his brother might hug him. Instead, he gave John's shoulder a squeeze and left his hand there for a second or two.

Realising they were having a moment, both men cleared their throats noisily and then John barged Dave out of the way and said, "You're taking too long."

Dave crossed his arms. "He's skittish and he hates going in his box. Good luck."

John extended the reigns and stood behind the horse and to the left a little. He gave a slight pull on the left rein, then said "Step" and tapped him on his rear end.

The horse walked forward, into the stable and John hooked the latch.

Dave was standing there with his mouth wide open.

"I did pick up a few pointers from dad," John explained. "You said you had something to show me inside?"

John walked back to the house slowly, taking his time to re-acquaint and say goodbye at the same time. When he entered the house Dave was sitting in the kitchen with a heavy wooden box in front of him.

"I found this when I was clearing out the attic."

John stared at the box for a minute, vaguely recognising it.

"Go on, open it."

John stood over the box and ran his fingers along the sides before flipping the lid open. "You're giving me this?"

"Well, I figured you always loved it, so why not."

John pulled the gun out of the box and held it out in front of him. It felt much lighter than when he was a child. It was elegant and it fit his hand perfectly.

"I don't know what to say," John told his brother.

"Say, I forgive you."

"Why?"

"For this," Dave passed him a plastic disc of red and blue.

John replaced the gun carefully and studied the plastic 'thing'. "What the hell is this?"

"Don't you mean what did it used to be?"

"I give up."

"Remember your Spiderman figure?"

"What?" John's interest was renewed. "I thought I lost it!"

"He kind of had an accident."

"What?"

"I was angry with you after that whole Bobby Aldridge thing and I sort of burned him….." Dave shook his head. "Well technically, Superman melted him with his laser vision but……anyway….I hid it from you because I felt so guilty afterwards."

John could just make out Spiderman's insignia and squashed face. He couldn't help it. He laughed.

"You're not mad?"

After John had reclaimed control of his breathing and stopped the hysterical laugh that threatened to bubble out again, he shook his head. "I'm more offended you called me a horse."

"I didn't call you a horse."

John hiked a finger over his shoulder. "Pretty sure there's a horse called John out there."

"Oh shut up Mop Top!"

"Go to hell, Flopsy!"

**The end**

A/N. Phew. Finished. I really enjoyed writing this story and I hope you've all enjoyed reading it. Thank you to those who have taken the time to leave a review. I love hearing what you think.


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